


In Like A Lion

by ChannelTheFlannel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Asexual Character, Baby Harry, Domestic, Dumbledore Bashing, Family, Friends to Lovers, Godric's Hollow, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Pre-Hogwarts, Raising Harry, Romance, Werewolves, Young Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 58,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5262110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChannelTheFlannel/pseuds/ChannelTheFlannel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is gone, Peter is a criminal, and the War is over. All Sirius has left is his tentative relationship with Remus, and his newfound duty to take care of Harry.<br/>But he'll be fine. He just has to learn how to cope in this strange new world he's been thrown into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death of the Potters

**Author's Note:**

> This starts out really sad and angsty, but it gets happy, I promise. Harry has a happy childhood.  
> Also, it doens't really have a plot. It's mostly just scenes from Harry's childhood, though it starts off a little slow.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: the series this was attached to has been orphaned because i was unable to carry on the plot. i'm not good at series. you can search the series name "out like a snake" on the site as it's somewhere on the orphan account if you really want to read it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort kills the Potters. Peter is apprehended. Sirius is distraught and takes Harry in. Dumbledore isn't happy.

Sirius woke from a nightmare, a foul taste filling his mouth. There had been Death Eaters, green lights, screaming, flashes of violence and bright red hair. As soon as he was part of the waking world again, however, the dream fragments quickly faded and were replaced by more tangible worries.

As usual, his thoughts first flung to Lily and James and baby Harry, hiding under the Fidelius Charm, their secret no longer safe with him but with Peter.

_Peter._

Peter would know if they were alright.

Sirius had taken to a bad habit of visiting with Peter whenever he felt uneasy, whenever he worried about the Potter family, the people he loved most in the world. He didn't know why he had handed over his ability to protect them to Peter, but some sick part of him was relieved.

If something happened to them, it would be Peter's fault.

He would regret that thought for the rest of his life.

Filled with thouhts of worry, the nightmare still spinning ruthlessly around in the corners of his mind, he Apparated to Peter's place. A cold, small space it was, but his friend felt safest there.

A coward, Peter Pettigrew was, and Sirius was about to find about how much of a coward he was.

The flat was in disarray, things flung about and some of the walls charred. In a moment of terror, he realized that someone had taken Peter. Abducted him.

Which meant nothing good. 

He began to hyperventilate, and he had to steady himself before Apparating out. He had to get to James and Lily. He didn't care about the Fidelius Charm, or the wards; he wasn't thinking about those. All he could think of was James, James and his stupid smile and sense of humor and undying loyalty.

It wasn't how it was supposed to work, but it was enough will to do the job, and he felt the world close in on him with the crack of Apparition, taking him to wherever James was. It worked, too.

Which was a problem, because if the wards and Fidelius were still working, he wouldn't have been able to get there. They would have blocked his memory of the location, Splinched him, or done something to keep him from getting there. And yet, he had arrived somewhere.

But they were down, and that meant something terrible had happened.

It was not warm. He immediately felt an absence, a disturbance, and when his eyes blinked open, he nearly fell to his feet, nearly lost his balance, nearly fainted.

The Potter house was smoking, the door blasted down and the house wide open. The Halloween decorations were still twinkling ominously. 

Worst of all was the Dark Mark, a sickly skull and smug snake floating like green smoke in the sky above the house.

Sirius nearly vomited, but before he could possibly process the scene before him, he felt his legs carry him into the house. Already, his head was spinning in shock, and he felt as though his ears were full of cotton.

The first thing he saw was James, splayed out on the floor of the living room, close to the door. There was no rising and falling of his chest, no grunt of recognition. 

He was just there, and it took Sirius a long moment to realize that James Potter was dead.

It was then that Sirius fell to his knees, staring blankly at his closest friend. He didn't bother to wonder if the killers responsible were still in the area. He needed... he needed to grieve, but that was impossible. Instead, he knelt on the ground next to James. His fingers clutched the material of his shirt, and he rocked back and forth, trying to comprehend the scene before him.

James was dead, his brown eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. It was unfair, it was wrong. Sirius tried to close them, and cringed when the skin was cooling and unresponsive. James' face, as dark and as beautiful and as familiar as it had always been, was anything but peaceful, and there was only one explanation, and it was so obvious, but Sirius didn't want to think about it.

The Death Eaters had gotten there first.

_Where is everyone else?_

The silence hit Sirius like a brick, and he stared down at James and his limp body, looking so horribly _gone_ but still horribly _James_. He felt a sob escape from him as he lost all control and collapsed onto the corpse, the body of one of his most beloved. He was still warm, but no heart beat was audible within him.

"James," he moaned, trying to cradle the body--trying to revive it, trying to get James to sit up and grin his stupid grin and say, "Gotcha!"--but it was limp and unresponsive.

Rage and desparation took over Sirius. "Goddammit, Potter!" He screamed, shaking him violently, needing a response, needing him to be alive. "You can't do this to me!" 

He felt a trickle of tears escape him before he could stop them, before he started sobbing, before he could allow the floodgates to completely release. He dropped the body with a thud, and he was lost in a moment of horrid realization. The realization that he had just begun living in a world without James Potter.

Voldemort might as well have won the war. James was all that he had left. James was the one that had taken him in when his family disowned him, the one who was there every time his heart broke, the one who was next to him on every battlefield, the only one he could trust anymore.

And now he was gone, and Sirius couldn't believe it. He felt as though he were shattering, as though his brain were slowly melting and the tears were burning acid ruts into his face.

He was prevented from total breakdown, however, when he was startled by the distinctive cry of a baby.

_Harry. Harry is alive._

Sirius nearly laughed in relief, but it came out choked, and it was all he could do to press a farewell kiss to James' still warm but cooling face before he clambered to his feet.

He was delirious, delirious with hope. He stumbled his way towards the sound, and found himself going into the nursery. It was in shambles, part of the wall blown out, and it smelled of smoke and death, but none of that mattered. The cry sounded again, and there was life in the nursery.

Harry-- _gorgeous baby Harry_ \--was alive. His forehead was bright red and bleeding, but all Sirius could see was the life in the child and hear the sheer aliveness of his crying.

It wasn't until he stumbled over the body of Lily--Lily Evans, Lily Potter, the woman who had stolen James' heart--that he realized what was happening, and he almost broke again. But Harry's crying was persistent and alive and real, and he couldn't grieve another moment for the dead, because Harry was _alive,_ _goddammit_ and Sirius needed to do what he could to keep it that way.

He scooped up the small baby, still warm and vital, and cradled him to his chest. The boy had never liked him much, not as much as Remus, but he couldn't think about it now. Not about Remus.

Remus, who was still alive. Remus, who he had cast away. Remus, who was probably a traitor--

Harry cried louder for a moment, and Sirius cursed himself for losing his train of thought.

He hushed Harry, held him, and felt himself sink to the floor. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, shushing Harry and murmuring and crying.... _Oh, gods, the crying,_ but how could he stop? His best friend had died, his best friend's wife had died, and he didn't know where Peter was....

But he had to focus on the baby. That was what was important.

Harry eventually quieted, but the little innocent seemed to know what was amiss. Sirius ached with the knowledge that the child had probably seen his mother die, and he wished that Harry hadn't understood it, but he didn't believe it. 

He was achingly cold when he heard something stir downstairs. He sprung to his feet and drew his wand, keeping Harry close to his chest, having swathed him as well as he could in his own robe.

"Who is it?" He demanded, sliding down the stairs and peering into the living room. He could make out a large, hulking shape....

"Sirius?" Hagrid stepped out of the shadows, looking despaired. "Sirius, thank Merlin." He let out a long breath. "Yeh've got Harry."

Sirius took a deep breath and shoved his wand back into his pocket, holding Harry even closer to himself. The boy only shifted and made a whimper, a warm, heavy weight against his chest.

"Where have you been?" He demanded, suddenly feeling hostile and defensive. "I've been here hours... But if I hadn't been, Harry would have  _died_ from the cold." He shuddered, and all of a sudden the tears came back when he saw the outline of James' body still on the floor.

"Hasn't been more than an hour, Sirius," Hagrid whispered cautiously. "Dumbledore was here jus' after they... they passed." He shook his head and stared at James' body, and he let out a loud sobbing sound. "Gods, I didn' think it was true... but there James is! And baby Harry..." He bit his lip, and tears and snot began to stain his face and get lost in his beard.

Sirius shut his eyes. He didn't want to deal with other people's grief. He wanted to be angry, he wanted answers, he wanted to scream.

"And where is everyone else?" He raised his voice far too loud, and Harry let out a cry, but he didn't care. Rage was boiling inside him. "Their _bodies_ are here, Hagrid, and no one is here. No one did anything to  _stop_ this." 

Harry let out a loud wail, and Sirius winced. He hugged the baby closer to him, stroked his back, tried to remember how to comfort an infant.

"I don't know," Hagrid admitted quietly, stilling himself and wiping his face with his sleeves. He took a step forward and placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "I'm jus' here to take Harry to the Dursley's. Dumbledore's orders." He sniffed and looked full of resolve unique to Hagrid.

Sirius flinched away from him. "No," he growled. In that moment, he didn't want anyone else to be holding Harry. They hadn't been there for him.

Harry was his responsibility.

"Sirius, yeh can't--"

"No!" Sirius screeched, and this time Harry didn't react. "Where is Dumbledore now? Where was Dumbledore when this happened?" 

Hagrid took a step back. "Listen, I know yeh're upset... but yeh need to calm down."

Sirius shook his head, and held Harry as tightly as he could without crushing him.

"Take me to Dumbledore," he demanded.

* * *

The Headmaster looked exhausted.

Sirius didn't give a single fuck, however, because he was even more exhausted. His deceased best friend's baby was in his arms, and he was on the verge of mental collapse. His concept of time had gone down the drain, and all he could feel was shock and anger coursing through him like lightning.

Dumbledore was pacing in circles, and hardly noticed when Sirius rushed in.

"Who killed them?" 

That was the first thing out of Sirius' lips, and he hadn't even realized that it was what he was thinking. But once it was out, the words swam around inside of him, reincarnating the memories of the Dark Mark, and, more devastatingly, the image of James' dead body. Lily was there, too, in his memory, but Sirius was snapped back to reality he felt Harry squirm in his arms.

Dumbledore looked up and met his eye, suddenly looking years older than the last time Sirius had seen him.

"The Dark Lord himself," he answered curtly, frowning as he acknowledged Harry. "And I would suggest you sit down in case you drop the baby."

Sirius glared at him, but he felt his body settling into its chair. His body seemed to be running off of shock--he couldn't fully experience anything he did. 

Except holding the baby. For some reason, that was so much more solid than everything else.

"The Dark Lord found out where James and Lily were hiding." Dumbledore's voice was shaky, but somehow devoid of emotion. Sirius couldn't help but notice that he was clutching his wand. "He went in just hours after I had left, and killed James. Then he got to Lily."

Sirius took in a sharp breath, and Harry made a tiny moaning noise. 

"How is Harry not dead?" Sirius asked, staring at the little boy in wonder. Why would the Dark Lord have spared him?

"Harry killed Voldemort, it seems," Dumbledore answered.

Sirius blinked, and his hold on the child almost loosened before he gathered himself. He knew he must have heard it wrong. It couldn't have been true.... The Dark Lord? Dead?

"I don't catch your meaning," Sirius breathed. For some reason, tears were beginning to prick at his eyes again.

"The Dark Lord is gone, Sirius." Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief. "And Harry Potter survived."

Sirius let out a choke of laughter, and even managed to smile at the tiny child, who already looked so much like James with his dark skin and hair, who was still staring up at him with Lily's knowing green eyes. But thinking about them made him feel like he was crashing again.

"But how did the Dark Lord know where they were?" asked Sirius, gravity seeming to weigh down his voice once more.

"It was Peter," Dumbledore answered, continuing with his pacing back and forth. He still seemed disgustingly emotionless, and more thoughtful than anything.

Sirius felt something within him snap, but he did not drop baby Harry. He tightened his hold on him and glared up at Dumbledore, willing him to continue, willing him to explain the vile situation.

"I can't believe we didn't see it coming." The old man's pace increased, and there was a terrifying precision to his movements that even Sirius couldn't ignore. "And perhaps we never would. We were informed of Peter's betrayal mere hours before the attack. That was why I was not present--I had rushed off to get a hold of Peter." He shook his head. "Foolish. Brash."

Sirius clenched his eyes shut. "How do you know it wasn't a distraction? That the person was planning to get you to go after Peter?" He was still trying to cope with the fact that his friends had passed, let alone the fact that it was Peter who had gotten them killed.

Dumbledore's step faltered, but he continued pacing. "It wasn't," he growled, his voice firm with resolve. 

"So it really was Peter?" Sirius demanded. Harry shifted in his arms.

Dumbledore turned to face Sirius, his blue eyes pierced with grief.

"He tried to convince me it was you," he said slowly. He took a step closer, staring into his eyes. "It wasn't you, was it?" His voice was hard with accusation, and it chilled Sirius to the bone.

Taken aback, he struggled to find words to protest. "No!" He cried, his throat clenching. "No, Albus... I would never... you know this..." 

Dumbledore watched him with narrowed eyes, and for a flickering moment, Sirius thought he felt the probe of  _legilimency,_ but it was over just as it began.

"Of course you wouldn't," Dumbledore agreed, turning away for a moment as if he were ashamed that he would have thought otherwise. 

Harry chose that moment to let out another wail. It was sharp and piercing, and it hurt Sirius in his core, because he realized that he was not the only one suffering from the occasion. He pressed his face close to Harry, trying to soothe him.

"Why do you have Harry, Sirius?" Dumbledore queried, his voice slow, sitting down in the chair next to him. "I told Hagrid to take him to Petunia's family."

Sirius didn't answer him for a some time. He tried to wipe at the cut on Harry's forehead, but it only made him squirm. He lost himself in thought for a long moment, wondering who had delivered the wound, what it had come from, where that person had gone.

Harry eventually stilled, and for the first time in the hours--less than that?--since Sirius had found him, the boy slept.

"I went to check on them after waking from a nightmare," Sirius explained, his voice low and quiet. "First I went to find Peter, though. His appartment was torn apart. I knew something was wrong."

Dumbledore laughed wryly, watching Harry fondly, his tone not matching the gravity of his words. "That was on the account of Alastor and I. As soon as I had finished with our informant, I left the Potters to find Alastor so we could find Peter and arrest him."

"But it was too late."

Both Sirius and Dumbledore said it at the same time, Sirius with bitterness and remorse, Dumbledore with scathing indifference. Sirius wished that the old man would show a little more emotion than just subtle regret, but he was too busy trying to bottle his own emotions.

"And I went to Godric's Hollow, which should have been impossible. But there I was, so I knew something was wrong. And there was the smoke and the Mark to prove it," Sirius continued, clenching his fists and battling the emotions threatening to overcome him. "It was empty, besides the... the bodies. And Harry." He stared at the boy in amazement. He didn't know what to feel, really. His best friend had died, the boy's mother had died, but so had Voldemort, and Harry was alive...

He supposed the rest of the world would hear the story soon. They would be celebrating.

And that made Sirius feel bitter. Angry. It wasn't right.

"Why was it empty, Dumbledore?" Sirius demanded, trying to fight his voice from raising lest he wake the babe in his arms. "Why was no one there? What will be done with their bodies?"

Dumbledore hung his head. "It will be dealt with, Sirius," he assured him. "But for now, we must focus on Harry. He must be taken to the Dursley's as soon as possible."

Sirius shook his head adamantly, remembering Hagrid's words.

"You can't," he insisted, clutching the boy closer to himself. "I'm his godfather. He's mine now. You can't give him... give him to _muggles_!" He thought of what he had heard about Lily Evans' sister and family, and he knew he couldn't let Harry live around that.

"It will be best for him there," Dumbledore said, slowly reaching out to touch the boy.

"No!" Sirius stood up and stepped away from Dumbledore, defensively guarding Harry. "You can't possibly think that."

"Think about it, Sirius," Dumbledore coaxed, standing up and looking at him pleadingly. "Soon all the world will know him as the boy who lived to defeat Voldemort. He will be famous, and he won't even remember what he's done." He shook his head heavily. "That kind of fame won't be good for him."

Sirius blinked and stared at the boy's sleeping face, torn between agreeing with Dumbledore and fighting against him. 

Harry took a deep breath, still lost in sleep, and his tiny form shuddered against Sirius' chest. He felt a surge of protection for the boy that was his best friend's son, the boy who was now really his.

He chose to fight for Harry.

"And neither will be living with a family who won't know what to do with him," Sirius countered, meeting Dumbledore's bright blue eyes. They were too bright for someone who had just faced tragedy, who had just seen the death of his pupils.

Perhaps he didn't really care about the Potters, about Harry. Perhaps he just wanted to see Voldemort dead.

"What are you suggesting?" Dumbledore demanded. "Will you take care of him?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Of course I will."

"You?" Bushy eyebrows rose in disapproval. "You're hardly responsible, Sirius. And you don't have anyone else to help you. Not to mention it would hardly do anything to keep the boy from the spotlight."

"I'll do what I have to," Sirius answered, feeling a new kind of resolve swell within him, something that seemed almost foreign to him. "Harry's mine now. I'll do what I must to take care of him."

"I can't let you do that, my friend." Dumbledore's voice was low, threatening even.

Sirius shook his head. "You can't stop me, actually. I'm his godfather. I have full legal custody over him," he reminded the man. "You may have led this war, Albus, but you can't control me. Especially not that it's over."

"You've gone mad," Dumbledore whispered, though Sirius fancied he saw fear flash in those blue eyes.

"I haven't." Sirius propped Harry closer to himself and prepared to apparate. "And I will take care of this boy."

Before the old Headmaster could protest, Sirius was apparating himself back to his flat. He had no idea what he would do there, how he would cope with his grief, how he would take care of Harry...

But he knew he would do whatever it took to keep Harry close to him. 

Because he was his godson, and he was all that Sirius had left of James.


	2. Remus Comes Home

Sirius had been unable to sleep, but he had still nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a pounding on his door. In his head, the war still hadn't ended yet, and he was still on edge and paranoid. After all, it had hardly been twelve hours since the death of Voldemort, since the death of Lily and James...

Since he had decided to take Harry in.

He hadn't even had time to regret his decision yet. He had only been able to take the baby home, wrap him in blankets, and frantically swap between feeling terrified for his future and feeling miserable about the past.

He had spent the evening debating whether or not to get wasted and drown his sorrow in alcohol. Something told him it would be a bad idea, though, with Dumbledore breathing down his neck. He wanted to be able to keep Harry, after all.

Still, Sirius had been staring hard at a bottle of unopened firewhiskey when the knocking on the door startled him back to his senses. It was past midnight, and he didn't know who it was. He was only paranoid until he heard the voice, and then he was washed over with surprise and relief.

"Sirius!" the voice on the other side of the door called. "Gods, Sirius, are you in there? Sirius! Please tell me you're alright!"

Sirius felt his heart catch in his throat when he realized it was Remus, his voice pitched with desperation and fear. He decidedly charged through the door and opened it as fast as he could, his pulse speeding with relief and flushed all over with a strange kind of joy. 

He hadn't spoken with Remus in months after their stupid,  _stupid_ row, when he had thought Remus was spying for the Dark Lord. Sirius knew now that it wasn't Remus who was the traitor, though the circumstances that had led him to that understanding were hardly sweet.

But now, Remus was in the doorframe, his cheeks splotchy and his eyes red from crying. He didn't even say a word before he flung his arms around Sirius' neck.

"I'm right here, Moony," Sirius promised Remus quietly, drawing him closer and closing the door. He rubbed his back and listened to his breathing, not allowing himself to cry when he realized that Remus was all that he had left besides Harry.

"They say he's gone," Remus whispered into his neck. "The Dark Lord's gone. There's fireworks and celebrations in the street..." He trailed off, and Sirius felt the hot tears meld from Remus' face onto his own neck.

"I know," Sirius murmured. "I heard on the radio."

Remus pulled away and looked him in the eyes. "But James and Lily... They're gone, aren't they?"

Sirius nodded, despair and denial climbing their way back up into his head. "Peter, too. He's as good as dead." He wanted to kill the slimy rat himself, but he thought that Azkaban would be a better punishment for Peter after what he had done. He deserved to rot with the Dementors.

Remus closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto Sirius' chest. "I didn't want to believe it."

Sirius had nothing to say. He still didn't want to believe it. But he had seen the bodies, he had spoken to Dumbledore, and Harry...

Harry let out a hiccup from his spot on the couch; he had apparently woken up. He immediately began to cry. Remus jumped in surprise and pulled away.

"What's that?" he asked, his head sharply turning to focus on the infant swaddled in blankets on Sirius' couch.

"I went to Godric's Hollow," Sirius explained, suddenly feeling nervous. "I found him there. I wouldn't let Dumbledore hand him off to the muggles."

Remus' breath caught as he moved to the couch. He sat down gingerly and picked up the bawling child, staring at him in wonder and horror. 

"Why would Dumbledore do that?" His voice was naught but a breath as he began to hush the baby and try to calm it. "Harry... he lived. Why woud we hand him off to the muggles now?" He shook his head, and Harry began to quiet down. 

"He's legally mine now, I suppose," Sirius confessed, watching in amazement as Harry seemed to calm down immediately at Remus' touch. 

"Why weren't you holding him?" Remus asked out of the blue. "He needs to be held. No more leaving him on the couch, you hear? And, Merlin, have you even fed him?" He had gone from grieving to a mother hen in a matter of seconds.

"I haven't anything to give him," Sirius confessed, feeling a little put off. And unprepared. "I mean, what does he eat? Milk? I haven't got any of that..."

Remus scoffed and stood up, still cradling the baby. "He's over a year old now, Sirius. Lily wasn't breastfeeding anymore. How much attention did you pay to them?"

Sirius walked up to him and stared at both Remus and the baby. He suddenly felt full of remorse.

"Not enough," he murmured, realizing he had all but abandoned his normal life in recent months. Wartime paranoia had distanced him from those he loved, and he realized he truly knew nothing about Harry.

What had he been thinking? He knew nothing about taking care of little baby boys. He couldn't become a father; he didn't even know how to take care of himself.

And now that James was gone? He wasn't sure how he was going to cope.

"Oh, and he's got a cut on his head!" Remus exclaimed as he wiped at the scabbed-over cut. The boy wailed. Remus quickly removed his hand and began to shush him, and Harry began to calm down. "We better clean that up."

"Dumbledore said it's from the curse," Sirius said pointlessly. He just wanted to be helpful. Remus didn't seem to notice.

"I reckon he needs a change, too," he muttered, wrinkling his nose and focusing solely on the baby. "There's a muggle shop nearby, isn't there? Why don't you pick up some nappies and food for him?"

Sirius' eyes widened. "It's one in the morning, Remus!" he protested. "And why should it be _me_?"

"He's your kid now," Remus pointed out cooly, "and I think I'm better at placating him for the time being."

Sirius shook his head in disbelief, but he could hardly protest. He threw on a coat and began looking for where he kept his muggle money, thinking all the while that the situation bore no semblance of normal.

His best friend was dead, the war was over, and he was going to have to get over it so he could learn how to raise a baby.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to break through the curtains. 

Remus was passed out on the couch with Harry pulled close to him. Sirius sat on the floor not too far away, staring at the wall and trying to process the sudden turn of events.

There was a huge pack of nappies on the coffee table, a sight foreign and daunting to him. On top of that, he had thrown out all of his alcohol after he had gotten back from the muggle shop. His icebox was full of carrots and peas and whatever else he could imagine cooking and mashing to feed a small infant.

And need he mention again that Remus was passed out on his couch? That was a surprise. A pleasant one, but a surprise all the same.

Sirius didn't know what to do with himself with all these strange changes, so he decided he was going to continue staring at the wall until Remus woke up. Remus would know what to do.

He didn't stir until Harry woke up. He didn't cry like Sirius had expected him to, but Remus somehow knew that the boy was awake, and his eyes immediately flickered open.

For a moment, he looked extremely confused and made eye contact with Sirius. His mouth opened as if he were about to say something, but then he noticed Harry and his facial expression changed.

"Gods, I think it's time to clean you up again," he murmured to Harry, picking him up and carrying him over to the coffee table.

"Again?" asked Sirius. "You just changed it, what, six hours ago?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "That's the thing with infants, Sirius. They just don't stop." He set Harry down on the coffee table and began to clean the boy up. "Now come closer so you can figure out how it's done."

Sirius' lip curled in distaste, but he crept up behind Remus to watch.

"Well, he's definitely a boy," he murmured, in an attempt at humor.

"Yes, I thought you might have gathered that already." Remus didn't even crack a smile at him. "Now, can you get me another washcloth? Wet it with warm water."

Sirius grimaced. "I'm never touching any of these cloths again," he murmured, finding a fresh one in a drawer by the sink. He wouldn't have been able to locate one if not for the fact that most of his things were still in order from back when Remus still lived with him. 

But that had shortly ended after their fight. He wondered if that might change, now. Though, he thought it was stupid to be hopeful. He hardly deserved Remus' help.

"You'll have to if you want to keep Harry clean," he replied. "And we can buy you new washcloths that won't have anything to do with a baby's bum."

Sirius snorted and wet the washcloth, carrying to over to Remus, who used it to wipe Harry clean before putting him in a new nappy.

"That's better," Remus said quietly when he was done, and Harry gurgled up at him.

"I'm guessing I have to figure out how to make him food now, don't I?" Sirius asked dryly.

Remus nodded, but he smiled as well. "I can help."

* * *

Morning wore into afternoon, and Sirius was sitting in the armchair by his window, staring out at the thin autumn light. The streets were full of celebrating wizards, dressed in robes and all, and they didn't seem to care that the muggles saw them.

They had every right to celebrate, he reasoned, now that Voldemort was dead. But he could hardly celebrate. He still ached from James' death, and yes, he even felt bad about Lily. 

Harry was asleep on the sofa again, and Remus wasn't too far away, curled up with a book and a cup of tea. He looked so normal, so very much like Moony, and every time he looked at him, Sirius thought he could forget the tragedy of the day before.

And maybe even celebrate, too.

But he didn't have it in him. He was tired from not sleeping the night before, and he still didn't feel as though he had anything to celebrate. He felt numb more than anything, when the dull aching began to subside.

"You should sleep."

Remus had gotten up and was standing directly behind Sirius. He could feel his presence near his back, warm and familiar.

"I can't," Sirius replied dully, watching as a young wizard released a firework into the air. "And, no, I'm not taking any potions. You know how I feel about those."

Remus sighed and sat down on the arm of the chair. He placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder and watched the scene outside of the window, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said at last, "for everything I said. I didn't mean it. I was scared." He never meant to hurt Remus, to chase him away, to call him a traitor and a criminal. He felt horrible knowing he had done that, and yet Remus had still chosen to come to him and help him without a word.

"I know." Remus huffed. "I already forgave you. The minute you opened the door."

Sirius closed his eyes, and a ghost of a smile formed on his lips. "Thank you."

Remus patted his shoulder. "Of course. What else could I do?"

"Cursed me out for being a git and thinking you were a Death Eater. Blamed me for Lily and James. I don't know." His throat clenched as remembered the torn up state of Godric's Hollow.

"I would never," Remus told him softly. "I've always forgiven you." His hand moved from Sirius' shoulder to the back of his neck, where he began tracing that familiar figure eight pattern.

Sirius shivered. "You've always been the more forgiving sort. I'm afraid I wouldn't have done the same," he murmured. Outside the window, a little girl in purple skipped along, her parents trailing after her. It filled Sirius with apprehension. And jealousy.

"Shit." He sighed and leaned back into the chair, and Remus moved away. "Moony, I'll never be that. I'll never be a father like that. I'll never be able to take care of Harry."

Remus pulled up a chair and sat next to Sirius. "Of course you will, Padfoot," he said quietly. "You just need some help."

"Why don't you raise him?" Sirius asked bluntly. "You know what you're doing. Just take him and go. He'll be better off." He bit his lip and continued staring out at the window. The little girl and the family skipped out of sight.

"I can't," Remus whispered, suddenly sounding stiff. "Not legally, I mean. I'm not allowed to have children. You know what the Ministry thinks of werewolves."

"Bollocks," Sirius cursed. "That's a load of shit. You're clearly a better parent than I could ever be. I still don't know what James and Lily were thinking when they made me Harry's godfather." He laughed bitterly, and Remus did, too, and it didn't hurt as much to remember.

"Well, the other options were slim," Remus said, and his voice went dark. Sirius remembered Peter and his betrayal.

He cleared his throat. "Well, is anyone legally stopping you from helping me?" he inquired. His heart caught in his throat as he realized what he said, but it was too late to stop now. In a rush, he added, "You could stay here. You could teach me how to take care of Harry. And after all that's happened, I doubt either of us wants to be alone." He hadn't meant to say the last part, and he felt his entire face flush as he met Remus' eyes.

Remus stared at him for a very long moment, and Sirius' pace began to quicken as he wondered if he had said the wrong thing. What if Moony was mad at him? What if it was too soon to ask? What if he had some secret werewolf life that he wanted to carry out?

Then, Remus laughed as if he was reading Sirius' mind.

"Of course I'll help you. Of course I'll stay." He shook his head and chuckled again. "I thought that was already established."

"It was not," Sirius replied stiffly, feeling a bit foolish.

"Well, it is now." Remus got up and went to the sofa. "It will be just like old times," he said as he picked Harry up. The baby gurgled as he woke up, and smiled.

Sirius didn't think even he would smile if Remus woke him from a nap like that.

Or maybe he would. He got up and joined Remus, standing up at the perfect little Potter in his arms. 

"You'll have to find a bigger place if you want to keep the two of us, though," Remus murmured, rocking Harry back and forth. "He and I won't stand to sleep on the sofa for long. And he needs a proper crib."

Sirius nodded in agreement, losing himself in thought as he remembered James' and Lily's house in Godric's Hollow. It would be perfect for Harry, but it was all blown up now. And it would hurt too much to go back so soon.

"There's Grimmauld Place now that everyone else in the family's gone," Sirius pointed out, "but I hated it as a child. I wouldn't want to do that to anyone else."

Remus laughed. "I can't offer any place of my own. I was holed up with"--his voice broke for a second--"with James for a while, if you bothered knowing. That's how I know how to take care of him."

Sirius hadn't realized the Potters had taken him in. They had been fighting for so long... But Remus hadn't known they were dead. Remus hadn't been there.

"Where have you been?" He asked, trying not to let his voice choke. He wished he had thought about the consequences of fighting with Remus. They had been living together, they were best friends then, and he had all but kicked Remus out onto the streets.

"A while after they went into hiding, Dumbledore said I had to go," Remus explained. "So, I left, and I found... I found a pack in the city that took me in."

Sirius gasped. "Moony, you--"

Remus cut him off and handed him Harry. "Hold him, will you? He needs to get used to you." He shook his head and looked away, and Sirius knew he was trying to avoid the subject.

Harry made a little grumbling noise when Sirius took him, but he ignored it. "How long were you with the pack, Remus?"

"Not too long," Remus answered gruffly. "A few months, I suppose. Lots of raw meat. Lots of stealing. Not a happy bunch."

Sirius felt something clench in his chest as he imagined Remus living with a bunch of other werewolves. He couldn't properly imagine it--Moony without tea, without books, without the love of all his Maurauders.

And now Sirius was the only Marauder left.

"You won't ever have to go back there," Sirius promised him, walking over to him. Harry giggled as he saw Remus' face. "You've got us now. Me and mini-Prongs here."

Remus snorted. "Don't call him that." 

Sirius stared at Harry's little face, where the cut had already scabbed over and looked exactly like a lightning bolt. It was clean, though, and with Remus' care, it wasn't going to get infected.

"Little Lightning?" he suggested with a grin.

Remus groaned and carefully removed Harry from Sirius' arms. "Too soon for that joke, mate," he murmured, and Sirius realized a moment too late that Remus was beginning to tear up.

"We all grieve differently," Sirius said quietly, his voice going hoarse.

"I know," Remus answered. "Now, I think we should feed this little bundle of joy. Keep ourselves distracted, yeah?"

Sirius agreed. He needed a distraction, even if every time he looked at Harry he was reminded of James. The baby needed love, and Sirius had to give that love, and maybe it would keep him from thinking about being sorry for himself.

The War was over, after all. He deserved to celebrate.

Remus held Harry and talked to him softly as he intructed Sirius on how to prepare the food. There was a lot of cooking just to end up mashing everything, Sirius thought, and he wondered why he couldn't just buy tins of food instead.

"Lily wouldn't use anything that came in a package," Remus told him. "You're going to feed him right, even if we have to work more."

"Next time, I hold the baby and you do the cooking," Sirius muttered as he agressively began to mash an orange yam with his fork. "This is bloody ridiculous."

"We can split the work," Remus said cheerfully. "But one of has to be holding him at all times, unless he's sleeping. You can't just ignore him."

"Merlin, Lupin," Sirius sighed. "There's so many rules. I don't think my mother held me that often..."

Remus rolled his eyes. "And look what a lovely relationship that was." He hoisted Harry up a little. "Lily held him all the time. I reckon he's going to start missing her and James soon."

Sirius stopped mashing and clenched his eyes shut. "I'm really not ready to talk about it more than we already have, Moony," he said quietly, returning to his task. The yam was practically mush now, and it wasn't even warm anymore. "But I think Harry's food is done."

Remus leaned over to inspect the mush. He drew his wand, gave it a flick, and the contents of the bowl seemed to whirr and go even smoother. "Looks good to me," he said.

"Why couldn't we have done that in the first place?" Sirius demanded, staring at the perfectly smooth orange gunk. Of course there was a spell for it!

"You needed to do something with your hands," Remus said cooly. "You're antsy."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm fucking antsy. I don't know what to do with myself!" He didn't even bother to lower his voice when he began shouting. "James is dead, the War is over, you're back, and there's a baby in my flat, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" 

Harry began to cry, and Remus looked torn between hushing Harry and hushing Sirius.

Sirius reckoned he could hush himself, so he shut up and turned away, feeling guilty about his outburst. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"It's alright," Remus assured him. Harry was still making noise, and Sirius felt terrible about it, so he turned around and started making faces at him.

"Look, it's me! Padfoot! Your stupid git of a godfather!" He stuck his tongue out and tried to pull funny expressions, but he just began to remember the last time he had done that, saying the exact same thing. 

Harry had only been a few months old at the time, and they had all felt so much younger, and they had been so much less involved in the war. Still passionate, still scared, but it was before all the talk of treason and betrayal and prophecy.

Sirius had been trying to make Harry cheer up then, too. But it was James who had ended up laughing, and Lily had rolled her eyes, and Remus chuckled softly. Harry had just cried louder, and James was as clueless and hopeless as always and Sirius suddenly missed him so much he  _ached._

"Sirius."

Remus' voice pulled him back to reality, and he realized he had frozen and tears were threatening to leave his eyes.

"Sorry," he whispered, taking a step away. Harry had stopped crying, at least.

"You should take a walk," Remus told him quietly. "Apparate out to a field. Scream. Become Padfoot. Run until you can't stop. And then come back. I'll be here."

There was something in the way Remus spoke that dulled the ache, and Sirius forced a smile. Moony always knew what he needed.

"Thanks." His voice was hoarse, and Remus just gave him a knowing look.

Sirius just needed to let it all out. Then he could worry about being a parent.


	3. Dumbledore's Terms and Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore lays down the law. Remus and Sirius are pissed about it.

It had been nearly two weeks since the _tragedy._

Sirius had managed to cope with his grief without too much alcohol, and Remus had been there to comfort him. They had gotten a crib for Harry, and had already begun to master the finer arts of the cleaning spells.

There was still an aching hole in his heart, and he was still emotionally drained, but he was learning to see the bright side. He had Remus back, and he had Harry, who was small enough to not be  _too_ much like James. Not enough to make him remember all the time.

Remus helped him forget. It was wonderful having his Moony back; he had forgotten how much he had missed his old friend. His smooth, reassuring voice, his obsessive love of tea, his familiar smile. He always seemed to know what to do and what to say, and it left Sirius feeling a little less heavy.

Having an infant around the house was exhausting, though. In between those bright moments when they were able to make Harry laugh, there was lots of crying, lots of messes, and lots of terrible smells. Not to mention the fact that Harry didn't seem to know the meaning of a proper sleep schedule. Sirius wasn't able to get more than two hours of sleep at a time.

He and Remus took turns on "baby watch." Harry's crib was in the bedroom, which meant that "baby watch" constituted of sleeping on the bed rather than the couch, but Sirius didn't think it was worth it. It was uncomfortabe either way.

Once upon a time, before he and Remus had stopped living together, there had been another bed with room for Remus. But, regretfully, since their argument, he had tried to remove every trace of him.

Now, it was one more thing on his huge pile of regrets. How _stupid_ he had been. He was always so brash and so reckless. He was always making mistakes.

Like agreeing to make Peter secret keeper. How clever he'd thought he was. He was so sure it would be the move that saved the Potters, but it wasn't. It had been the opposite.

"Don't blame yourself," Remus said quietly, carrying over a cup of tea. He set it down on the table on a coaster and took a seat next to Sirius on the now all-too-familiar sofa.

"I'm trying not to," Sirius lied. Harry was wrapped up in a red and green checked blanket, and Sirius was cradling him close. Remus wouldn't shut up about how important it was to maintain near constant physical contact with him, and to respond to every little noise that he made.

"But you are." Remus' voice was ever steady, a constant source of reason.

Trying to ignore Remus and the guilt bubbling inside of him, Sirius looked at Harry and pressed a kiss to his forehead. The scar was already beginning to heal, but considering it was a curse wound, the scar would always be there. He had begun to think it was charming, though. Not to mention that it was one less thing to remind him of James.

"I can't help it," he said at last, surrendering to his emotions. "As much as I love Harry, I can't help but look at him and think of his father." He cringed, unable to say the name aloud. "I feel like it's all my fault. I don't deserve to be taking care of Harry. He should still be with his parents, and I shouldn't have made such a stupid mistake."

Remus let out a long sigh. He picked up his cup of tea and blew at the steam, sending a whiff of sweet cinnamon towards Sirius.

"It doesn't matter, Sirius," he said rationally. "What matters is now. You have to take care of Harry. You can't neglect him just because he reminds you of James."

Wincing, Sirius looked away, back at Harry, who was only half-awake, but at least peaceful. "I don't neglect him," Sirius protested half-heartedly.

"I know," Remus answered, "but you can't start. You need to keep your head on and be there for this strange little family."

"That's what we are?" Sirius asked with a huff of laughter. "A family?" He quite liked the sound of it, he had to admit. His own family hadn't been there for him.

Maybe this was his chance to start anew.

"We've always been a family." Remus took his hand, and it felt warm and hairy and very much like Moony. "Especially when it comes to the Potters."

Sirius' breath hitched at the name, and he thought of how James had taken him in, how wonderful and loving he had been. He knew it was the least he could do in return to take care of Harry.

"I know you're still in love with him." Remus' voice was tight, and it jarred Sirius.

"What do you mean?"

"James," Remus said quietly, squeezing Sirius' hand. "You've always been in love with him. In more ways than one. I know this is harder for you than anyone."

Sirius closed his eyes. He had stopped telling himself he loved James long ago. Probably when Lily had finally given in and started loving James back. That was when he had lost him.

But the loving hadn't stopped, and now James was gone forever, and it hurt more than anything. 

Harry hiccoughed, and his little green eyes opened wide. Sirius couldn't help but laugh, and Remus did, too, retracting his hand and smiling fondly.

"I'll be alright," Sirius promised him.

"I know."

Before either could elaborate, there was a knock on the door. Sirius frowned in confusion. No one had stopped by the flat in a long while. And, when he thought about it, there really wasn't anyone who had much reason to.

Remus got up to answer the door, and Sirius stayed in his chair, feeling strangely motherly, being left to rock back and forth with the baby.

He watched as Remus cracked the door open, and then immediately opened it all the way. Surprisingly, it was Dumbledore who was there.

"Headmaster," Remus said, a little breathlessly. "What brings you here?"

"Hello, Remus," Dumbledore said, only looking slightly put off to find Remus at the door. "I'm here about a certain Harry Potter."

Sirius felt his chest constrict, and he clutched Harry closer to himself, making the baby squirm and cough in surprise. Sirius was filled with apprehension, though. What if Dumbledore had come to take Harry away?

He watched in silence as Remus let the grey-haired wizard into the room. He immediately made himself comfortable in the chair by the window, smiling in a way that Sirius didn't think made it to his eyes.

"Hello, Albus," Sirius said. He absently stroked Harry's tiny tuft of hair as he met eyes with the professor.

"Sirius," Dumbledore replied evenly. "I see Harry is doing well." There was a moment of silence, where Sirius didn't know whether to respond or continuing the stiff eye contact with the headmaster.

"I'll get started on some tea." Remus broke the silence awkwardly and ducked into the condition. His answer was always tea.

"I'm keeping Harry," Sirius said immediately, before Dumbledore could suggest anything horrible or try and drag harry away to Lily's sister.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "I expected as much. But I would like you to understand that there are still some things we need to discuss."

Wincing, Sirius thought that he wasn't entirely in the mood to discuss anything, especially knowing that anything Dumbledore had to say now would be a heavy topic. He wanted to continue blocking out the events of Halloween, to pretend that nothing had really happened, to not think about what had been done with James' body. He wanted to put it off as long as possible.

But Dumbledore wouldn't stand for that.

"As I'm sure you know, raising Harry in lieu of recent events will certainly be a challenge." He crossed his legs and turned his head to casually look out the window. "People are calling Harry the Savior of the Wizarding World. He's going to be famous. It will be a lot of weight on the shoulders of a little boy."

Sirius grimaced. It hadn't been a topic heavy on his mind. He had been a bit worry moping for himself.

"And what would you suggest we do?" he demanded.

"Lie low," Dumbledore instructed. "Keep him hidden. We don't want him being assaulted by the press, or risk him falling to an attack by angered former Death Eaters."

There was a clattering in the kitchen. 

"Keep him hidden?" Remus demanded. "How is that healthy?"

The headmaster cleared his throat and glanced into the kitchen. "The way I see it, Mr. Lupin, it would be unhealthy to not keep him hidden." His eyes narrowed when he looked at Sirius again. "Not only would he be pressured by the media, but I'm afraid our society isn't ready for a male couple to raise their hero. Let alone the fact that one of them is a werewolf."

Sirius nearly choked, and his movement stirred Harry.

"That's hardly fair!" he exclaimed. "We're not a couple, and you  _know_ that Moon-- _Remus_ isn't a danger to anyone."

Blue eyes twinkled as Dumbledore smirked. "I am quite aware," he replied, "but that doens't mean people will see what they want to see. The fact remains that there are several risks to allowing you to raise Harry."

"You can't keep me from him," Sirius snarled, his Gryffindor bravery making him forget the fact that Dumbledore most certainly could. Being Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump, his opinion certainly held weight. He could plant evidence linking Sirius to a crime, and that could deem him ineligible from being a guardian.

"As I believe I have stated, I was not intending to." He pulled a piece of parchment out of his robes. "I do, however, have some terms to ensure you prioritize Harry's upbringing."

From the kitchen, Sirius heard Remus mutter, "He brought a bloody fucking _contract_?" 

Composed and gracious as ever, Dumbledore ignored it completely.

"What's it say?" Sirius asked gruffly, snatching the contract away and scanning it over. It was written in green ink, and tiny script covered the entire piece of parchment, which was over three feet long. "Looks complicated."

Dumbledore laughed bitterly. "And I'm afraid it's completely necessary, now that Mr. Lupin is in the picture especially."

Remus made a choking sound. "I get it, I'm a werewolf. What's the contract say?" He carried over two tea cups and set them down on the table with a violent  _thump,_ splashing red,cinnamon-y liquid onto the tabletop.

"Remus, it's not  _me_ who has any quarrels with your condition," Dumbledore reminded him calmly. "But there are laws in place that would technically forbid you from parenting. Or marrying, for that matter. If you're raising Harry with Sirius, there are several measures that need to be put in place."

Groaning, Sirius tried to come up with a reasonable response.  "What are those measures, then?"

"Well, as I mentioned, you should do your best to keep him from the wizarding public. That's not to suggest a Muggle upbringing, but I have faith you'll find compromise." 

"Can you tell us something you haven't mentioned already?" Sirius demanded. "As in, something to do with what's on this bloody parchment? Because I'm not reading through all of that." 

The old professor once again ignored the rude tones, though he maintained his passive agressive attitude.

"There will be several restrictions. For example, the places you can go, the people you allow him to interact with, the things you teach him. And I will come by regularly to ensure things are going smoothly." Dumbledore's gaze fixed on baby Harry, and he looked deep in thought. "We want him to be prepared for a future life as the Boy Who Lived, but not to be entirely overwhelmed as a child with it. A balance."

Something told Sirius that there wouldn't have been so many restrictions on the muggle family, but he didn't say anything. That was different. With muggles, he would never be around any wizarding propaganda that could taint his views.

From Dumbledore's perspective, he supposed, there was much more risk allowing Harry to remain in the Wizarding World without Lily and James. Those two, Lily in particular, had always been much more pliant, much more devoted to the Light cause.

Sirius and Remus were less predictable--one had Dark blood flowing in his veins, the other was a werewolf. Not to mention they didn't devote themselves as wholly to anything as James did. They tended to think on their own.

So, from an outside perspective, Sirius supposed he could understand the old goat's reasoning. But that didn't mean he enjoyed it.

"The Boy Who Lived?" Remus repeated slowly, looking slightly miffed.

"That's what people are calling him," Dumbledore answered. "You see why it's necessary to keep him away? Growing up hearing that would be less than ideal."

"Understandably," Sirius added. Harry had fallen back asleep again, and Sirius had stopped cradling him and set him on his lap. "But a contract? I don't like it, Albus. I've said it before, you can't control me."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "Harry is more than just any child, Sirius. You can see that."

"But that doens't mean he doesn't deserve a normal childhood. With normal parents." Remus stepped in to defend him, and Sirius noticed the usage of 'parents.' It made him feel strange--he and Remus could be parents to Harry. Eventually.

But in his mind, Harry was still James' boy.

"This is hardly normal," Dumbledore spat. "His parents are dead, he is the Boy Who Lived. There are precautions that must be made to ensure--" He broke off, his face twisting bitterly.

"Ensure what, Albus?" Remus snarled, his face going hard. "You seemed scared of something."

"We're not going to corrupt Harry," Sirius added.

"It is not future corruption I'm worried about," Dumbledore grumbled. "How do you think he managed to defeat Voldemort so young, gentlemen? There are whispers that the boy is Dark. There are people who might want to take advantage of that."

"Dark?" Sirius scoffed. "This is the son of Lily and James, in case you forgot. There's not a lick of Dark in this boy." 

"And it doens't take Dark to defeat Dark," Remus countered. "You yourself have defeated a Dark Lord. It doesn't mean that you're Dark. Or entirely without it, either."

The Headmaster grimaced. "But I was not nearly so young." He shook his head, that inexplicable gaze fixed on Harry once more. "There is something strange at work here."

"No." Sirius strongly disagreed with everything that the professor was saying. "Your fear is foolish, Albus. You can't bully us into being just as afraid as you are."

"I'm merely trying to be logical, Sirius," Dumbledore answered. There was a quiet fire to his voice that unnerved Sirius.

"Well, it's not my logic," Sirius retorted. "And I'm not signing your goddamned contract."

Dumbledore blinked in shock, not used to being refused. "You can't do that."

"We can," Remus interjected. "It doesn't mean we won't heed your word. You can trust us, you know. It's in our interest as well to lie low. But we don't need our magic bound to fear-fueled assurances."

Sirius smiled fondly. Remus always was good at words. His voice of reason.

"You're making a mistake."

Remus laughed at the professor, and stood up and gestured to the door. "I don't think so. There's no law saying we have to listen to you, you know. There's nothing legally necessary about any of this. We're not criminals."

Dumbledore stared blankly, apparently not knowing what to do.

"I think Remus is trying to show you to the door, Professor," Sirius said, unable to bite back his smirk.

Apparently stuck in a situation he didn't know what to deal with, the professor got to his feet and stiffly walked to the door. Before he left, though, he cast a dark look over his shoulder.

"I will see you at the Potter's ceremony," he said quietly. "I'm sure you'll be owled the invitation."

Then, Remus shut the door before the old man could come back in with his bloody fucking contract. Sirius was left feeling uneasy, though.

"Wonder who's in charge of the ceremony," Remus pondered, sounding equally as unsettled. He took a seat next to Sirius, and picked up Harry, whose eyes blinked open slowly. He giggled.

Sirius smiled and put his arm around Remus. It was second nature, it was just something to comfort them both, but he realized what he had done a moment later. Physical contact with him had been sparse since their fight, and he didn't know if it was appropriate.

But Remus didn't seem to mind. He let out a sigh and leaned into Sirius.

"And I've got three cold cups of tea sitting around. I just feel off," Remus murmured.

No longer constricted by a baby in his lap, Sirius leaned over and took one of the cups of tea. He used his wand to reheat it and took a long sip. "Still tastes fine to me," he remarked.

Remus rolled his eyes and tickled at Harry, who was still giggling and trying to grab his hands. "How do you feel about all that, Pads? With Dumbledore."

Sirius shrugged and took another sip, putting his arm back around Remus. "I think he's still a little shaken up after the war. Doens't mean I'm not right pissed at him though." He put his head on his shoulder, watching as Harry finally caught Remus' hand and stuffed a finger in his mouth. "You sure showed him, though, Moony."

Remus chuckled, and Harry laughed at the sound. He squirmed out of the blanket and tried to reach up at the two of him, but ended up stumbling a little.

"Whoa there, little guy," Remus said, holding Harry steady. He was half-standing with the support. "Maybe we should get you on the floor so you don't fall."

"S'the most mobile I've seen him," Sirius commented. "I reckon he's all riled up after Dumbledore's shit." He laughed bitterly, but softened when Moony pulled away to carry Harry to the floor. He was a bit put off that the closeness had ceased, but this was almost as good.

Remus sat cross-legged on the floor as Harry crawled around him. Remus was cooing encouragement.

"Good work, little bloke," Sirius said after a while, grunting as he got up to join them on the floor. Harry had been doing a fair bit of crawling ever since they took him in, but he seemed especially energetic today.

Maybe he was getting over the trauma?

Or Sirius was just trying to project his emotions onto an infant.

"He'd probably like it if we got him some toys," Remus commented. "It'd keep him busy." 

"What happened to the hands-on-at-all-times thing?" Sirius chuckled.

"We stay close, but he still needs toys. Didn't you have toys as a pollywog?"

"I don't remember ever being a  _pollywog,"_ he mumbled, "and I don't know about any toys. When I was six I got a stuffed manticore. I brought it first year to Hogwarts, remember?"

Remus frowned. "I do remember, sadly." He fake-shivered. "It was a creepy thing. What kind of person gives a child a stuffed manticore?"

"Hey! I quite liked the lion part of it," Sirius protested.

Suddenly, Remus' face stilled, and he stared fixedly at Harry for a moment, who had found a piece of lint to play with. 

"We're going to give Harry every bit of love that you didn't get," Remus said quietly. "No matter what Dumbledore wants us to do, we have to at least do that."

"Don't get sappy on me, Moons."

Remus turned to look at Sirius, his eyes wide. "I mean it." His hand reached for Sirius, and there was emotion swimming in those wide, amber eyes. For a moment, Sirius felt lost. He felt like he was seeing something he had never seen before, which was ridiculous. He had known Remus forever, he'd held his hand, he'd looked into his eyes.

But this was different. And Sirius felt forgiven.

There was a tiny thud, and both men spun to see that Harry had thumped over, and was now giggling at himself for no apparent reason. He had one hand clutching his own hair, and the other trying to push himself up. It was a hopeless endeavor, really, and it effectively melted Sirius' heart.

"You're right, Remus," he admitted. "I'm afraid we have no choice but to love the shit out of this kid. Sod what Dumbledore says. We're making him happy.'

Remus laughed freely, and so did Sirius, and it finally felt like they weren't living in the shadow of war.

 


	4. Full Moon

It wasn't long until they recieved an invitation to the funeral. It came by post owl, a black envelope with swirling golden font. Sirius truly didn't want to open it, because that would be confirming that the Potters were indeed dead.

But every day had been a confirmation, and he had learned to cope. So, he had opened the envelope with Moony, and they both stared at the cream-colored parchment with bitterness and grief.

The 'celebration of life'--a funeral, really--was being hosted by the Order of the Phoenix. It was going to be held at Hogwarts itself. Remus and Sirius were being 'cordially invited' to attend and speak.

"What a load of shit," Sirius hissed, dropping the invitation onto the table. "He would have hated this. All this pomp and circumstance. And think of how many people will be there!"

"They're being honored as war heroes," Remus reminded him. "Of course it's a big deal. And we're going."

"Of course we are. When's the date, though?" He picked up the invitation again and checked the date. 

Remus turned green when he saw it. "That's the day of the full moon."

Sirius' lip curled, and he crumpled the paper into a ball and flung it at the wall. "I bet he did that on purpose," he hissed. "This is Dumbledore's revenge for not signing his  _contract._  The one day you can't go." He felt his rage rising like bile, and he wanted to hit the wall.

Remus' hand was on his shoulder, and his grip was hard, and he was clearly just as upset. But he was more rational, and he was calm, and the touch did a small bit to relieve Sirius' rage.

"I can still go," Remus said quietly. "We'll find someone to take care of Harry, alright? And then you can go to the service, and I can lock myself up in the Shrieking Shack before it gets dark. Just like old times."

"I'm not leaving you alone." Sirius was seething with anger, imagining being stuck at some pompous ceremony while Remus bit at himself in frustration, stuck alone when the wolf took over. "It's not worth it. We don't have to go to Dumbledore's ceremony. It's just for the press, anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, Moony." Sirius pulled him into a hug, something they'd taken to lately. "I doubt he wants us there anyway, with all that shit about lying low." He scowled as he said it, his fingers digging into Moony's back.

Moony's hands were much softer. Comforting strokes. Quietly, he said, "Then let's not go. We'll have our own ceremony. Visit Godric's Hollow. Pay our respects."

Sirius loosened his grip and buried his nose in Remus' hair. He felt closer to his old friend than he ever had, and it was comforting, if not for the unfortunate-- _really fucking unfortunate--_ circumstances.

Remus shivered, and abruptly pulled away. "I'll go check and see if Harry needs a change."

Sirius watched in confusion as he hurried away. He tried to stir the uncalled for feelings that were stirring inside of him, but realized it was futile. He wasn't going to fight the closeness, he wasn't going to fight the feelings involved.

* * *

The day of the funeral, Sirius did his best not to get completely wasted. He had to be there for Remus, and for Harry. Besides, Remus had invited company over, and it wouldn't be fitting to be wasted in front of them.

He hadn't said who it was, though, which left Sirius rather curious. He didn't know how important they were, and so he couldn't decide whether or not he  _really_ needed to shave.

He was debating it whilst watching Harry (he was playing on the floor with his newest toy, a stuffed cat), contemplatively stroking his chin. After four weeks of staying mostly in, being depressed, and taking care of a baby, his stubble was definitely no longer stubble, but it wasn't quite a beard yet. He didn't think he was capable of pulling off a beard, really--

"I know what you're thinking," Remus muttered, exasperation lining his voice. "And yes, you should shave. Really, really, should shave."

Sirius looked over at Remus, who was huddled in a blanket in the chair by the window. "What?" He asked teasingly. "You don't think scruffy suits me? Not punk rock enough?"

Remus turned the page of his book and didn't look over. "Cave man is not punk rock. Neither is your new lazy, not put together look. You haven't achieved punk rock in a long while." 

Sirius winced, wounded at Moony's scathing words. He supposed he was right, though. He'd been feeling too down to get dressed most days, and Remus was the one who went out. Sirius stayed home and moped.

He got up and yawned, deciding he would clean up. "You watch the munchkin, and I'll take a shower."

"S'about time," Remus murmured. 

Sirius ignored him and went to shower. It had been a couple days at least, as he realized when he was having trouble unknotting his hair. It took him a while to scrub away his body odor, too. He felt bad for Remus, having to deal with him.

He came out feeling fresh, and decidedly much less like a slob. He would have to work on that, he decided. As miserable as he was feeling, he at least owed it to Moony to stay decent.

Out of common courtesy, of course, he told himself. Nothing more.

When he looked in the mirror, he realized he had changed too much during the wall. After he fought with Remus, and James and his family went into complete hiding, Sirius had gone a little crazy. Depressed, too. He was much thinner than he had been a year ago, and he looked like he hadn't been sleeping much, either.

He decided the scraggly excuse for a beard would have to go, too. He lifted his wand to use the spell that would shave his face smooth.

He didn't even cringe or feel anything particularly bad when he remembered that it was James who had taught him the spell. They had been young then, and it was hardly useful. Sirius smiled at the memory.

He didn't expect James' death to stop hurting, but he was glad that today of all days, it didn't hurt so bad.

Wrapped in a towel, he went to the bedroom, where his closet was filled doubly with both his and Remus' clothes. It was clear whose was whose--Remus went for comfortable things like sweaters and cardigans, whereas Sirius was more vain, and enjoyed his leather and tight clothes.

Remus was right, though. He certainly hadn't been living very punk rock lately. He had been borrowing Remus' more comfortable clothes since he didn't have anyone to impress. Again, he was hardly being fair.

He went for his familiar old leather jacket over a soft tee shirt and a pair of muggle jeans. He had always preferred muggle dress, if not just to irk his famiy. It felt comfortable to be in his own clothes. He felt like himself again, really. 

Maybe things would lighten up.

When he got back to the sitting room, Remus was on the floor, talking to a gurgling Harry. When he looked up, there was a light in his eyes and a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"There's the Sirius I know," he said. He took Harry's hand and pointed it at Sirius. "There's the Padfoot we love, isn't it?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Git. I'm lovable in any state."

"Well, you're more palatable now," Remus countered. "You better keep this up; I shouldn't need to remind you to take care of yourself."

"Give me a break. I'm still getting over everything." Part of him felt like it wasn't an excuse, but what mattered was that he was trying. "Do I need to make a meal for our mystery guests?" He asked, wandering into the kitchen.

"That would be lovely," Remus answered, sounding slightly surprised. "Get out something for Harry to eat, too. He'll be hungry soon."

Sirius grunted in response and went shuffling through his cupboards, looking for his spices. Remus had rearranged things since moving in, but at least he kept it well stocked. He found everything that he needed, including ingredients in the fridge.

"I'm making curry," he announced, beginning to chop the onions. It was all he knew how to make. James' mother had taught him when he still lived there. While he didn't know all her secret family recipes, he was good at the ones he did know.

James always hated anything with spice. Both of his parents, full-blooded Indians, teased him about it, saying Sirius was more their son than him. It was all in good nature, and it was just one more thing that made Sirius feel at home with them.

He was only crying because of the onions.

Once everything was simmering, Remus padded into the kitchen, Harry in his arms.

"Smells wonderful in here," he said with a smile. "You're a better cook than I. Reminds me of--" He broke off, smiling apologetically at Sirius.

"James. I know," Sirius answered, leaning against the countertop. He beckoned Remus over and took Harry out of his hands, bobbing him up and down and trying not to think about it.

"You alright? It's been a good day so far." Remus looked concerned.

"Fine," Sirius answered, playing with Harry's hair and staring intently at his little green eyes. "I loved him, but he wouldn't want me moping over myself now. Certainly didn't like it when he was alive."

"Did he know?"

"Know that I loved him? I reckon he did. I mean, _you_ picked up on it."

"I'm not so sure. I think I payed much closer attention than James did."

Sirius felt his cheeks go red at Remus' words. He supposed James had been a bit busy mooning over red-haired lillies to notice Sirius' feelings.

"I'm fine," he whispered into Harry's face, making him blink and pull a strange face. 

"I know." Remus pulled him into a tender hug, Harry in between them.

Sirius nearly jumped when Remus kissed his cheek, lingering there for a long moment. It made his face go hot and his pulse flutter, and his brain stopped working. He could no longer piece together any sad thoughts or anything that Remus had said. 

But then Remus had pulled away like he hadn't done anything, and the moment was over.

"Frank will be over any minute now. I'll set the table." He turned away to sort through the cupboards for cutlery.

"Frank?" Sirius asked, following after him. "Longbottom, you mean? He's our guest?"

"The very same." Remus pulled out three plates and placed them on the pathetic excuse for a dining table. It was round and small and unstable. Sirius had gotten it from a muggle garage sale a long time ago, and more recently, Remus had found a decent tablecloth to cover it with. It was yellow and blue and garish, but endearing in a very Remus-like way.

"He'll be watching Harry tonight, then?" he inquired. Remus couldn't stay to take care of Harry during the full moon, after all, and Sirius didn't want to leave him alone.

"That's the plan."

The door rang just then, and Sirius went to get the door, Harry still in arm. He swung it open, and there was Frank Longbottom, tall and tired-looking with a baby in his arms.

Sirius quirked a smile at him, noticing their similar states. "Hullo, Frank. Come on in." He hadn't known the man well at school, but it was never too late to be friendly. Besides, they had both been part of the Order.

"Hello, Sirius. I'm assuming this is Harry?" he asked cheerfully.  

"The very same," Sirius answered. "But it's a big secret that we have him; Dumbledore's orders." He stared at the baby in Frank's arms. "Looks like you've got your own sprog," he remarked.

"Yes," Frank let out a choked bit of laughter. "Not sure if you remember, but Alice--Alice and I got married a few years back. This is our son, Neville."

Sirius held out a finger, which Neville took as Sirius pretended a handshake. "Lovely to meet you, Neville," he chuckled. "But where's Alice?" he inquired as he closed the door behind Frank.

"Oh." Frank seemed to stop. "You haven't heard?"

Remus perked up from the kitchen. "Heard what?" he asked cautiously. "We've been a bit holed up here."

Frank took a shuddering breath and invited himself to sit down on the sofa. He looked shaken.

"Alice is in St. Mungo's. She's suffering from severe mental trauma... Spell damage, actually. The, er...." He broke off for a moment to wipe his face with his sleeve. "The Death Eaters got to her. It's nothing short of a miracle that I was spared, really." He shifted uncomfortably, and Neville let out a little squawk.

"Godric, Frank, I'm so sorry." Remus took a seat next to Frank and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Thank you so much for coming today. I'm sure you would rather be taking care of Alice."

Frank sniffed and hoisted Neville up into his arms. "It's fine. Mummy's safe in the hospital," he murmured, smiling at his son. "Besides, it's about time Neville had a play date, don't you think?"

"Harry will like it. I'm sure he doens't mind sharing." Sirius sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and placed Harry on the carpet, where there was a smattering of his new toys on the floor. The stuffed cat, a small plush that Remus called a "wooly mammoth," and a green model of a muggle car.

Frank laughed and set Neville on the floor as well, and the two children stared at each other for a long moment, before Harry began to giggle hysterically. 

"Are those muggle toys?" Frank asked, watching the boys and still looking a little shaken.

"Yeah. Haven't spent much time around other wizards lately. Dumbledore says its a bad idea," Sirius grumbled. Though, in truth, he doubted he would have done so even if Dumbledore said he could. He hadn't left the house at all, really.

"Oh. Is that why you're not going to the Potter's service today?" 

Both Remus and Sirius flinched.

"Something like that," Remus replied, standing up. "We'll visit the grave later, pay our respects. James never liked big events like that anyway." He moved into the kitchen and checked on the pot. "This ready, Pads?" he asked.

"Should be," Sirius answered, not wanting to get up from his spot near the boys. "There's some cooked rice in the ice box if you want that, too."

"I know. I cooked it." Remus bent over to look for it, and Sirius watched with a smirk on his face.

Frank laughed lightly. "So, you two are handling it all well?" he inquired. 

"Well enough," Remus responded, finally finding the rice. "You're holding up, too?"

"I've got Neville to keep me busy." Frank stood up and joined Remus in the kitchen. "I'm going back to work soon. I'm hoping they'll come up with a way to... to get Alice's mind back."

"Gods." Remus shook his head in sympathy, and Sirius couldn't help but feel terribly sorry. He didn't want to hear any more sad stories, though, so he tuned out as Remus and Frank chatted.

He pulled out his wand and cast a levitation charm on the wooly mammoth toy and made it scamper around above the boys. Harry squealed and reached up to grab at it, and Neville let out a loud snorting noise.

Sirius chuckled at them as he attempted to levitate the car, too, but wasn't focusing well enough and it clattered to the ground. Thankfully, it didn't hurt either of the boys.

"Sirius?"

He was pulled back to attention as he glanced into the kitchen, where Remus and Frank were sitting down looking ready to eat.

"You joining us?" Remus asked him, patting the place at the table next to him.

"I can leave these two here?" Sirius questioned tentatively.

"You'll be able to watch from here," Frank assured him. 

Sirius cast one last look at the boys and then got up to join the other adults at the table. For a moment, it all felt surreal.

He was sitting down for a bite of curry with one of his best mates and someone he barely knew, while two children crawled around on his carpet. It was a life he hadn't exactly imagined for himself a few years ago, but it was all he could do to get used to it.

He ate plenty because Remus kept on shooting him dirty looks. He hadn't been eating enough lately, he knew, but his friend could have been more subtle about it.

Then again, it made sense. They would have to keep their strength up for when Remus transformed.

Frank politely nibbled at the curry, though his eyes were watering. He mostly stuck to the rice, Sirius noted. He would have to let Remus cook the next time they had him over, which Sirius thought they would do again. They needed someone to take care of Harry when Remus transformed.

"So, when do you gentlemen have to get going?" Frank asked, having pushed his half-finished plate away from him. 

"Soon," Remus replied, glancing at the wall clock. "It'll be dark soon," he added quietly to Sirius so Frank couldn't quite hear.

"Might I ask where you two are going to do?" he inquired casually, taking a large swig of cold water (which Sirius could have told him would only make it worse). He coughed a bit and set the class down with a loud clink.

Sirius nearly choked, but he looked up with a smile and wiped at his mouth. Apparently, Remus hadn't told Frank about their furry little problem.

That was alright, he supposed. They had gotten very good at coming up at explanations.

"We just need a night away from the flat, you know? Get the past month or so out of our systems," Remus replied, his face unreadable. Sirius sliently applauded him for remaining calm.

"Perfectly understandable," Frank replied with a knowing smile. "I've taken a few nights like that for myself. Neville's grandmother takes care of him while I'm away." 

"Lovely," Remus replied, though his voice sounded a bit terse. "You don't have to stay here, you know. You can take the boys over to your own home, if you don't mind. I'm afraid we've only one bed and crib here, and I doubt you'd like either for yourself."

Frank raised his eyebrows, but he didn't make a comment. "I was planning on taking them home, anyway." He glanced over at Harry and Neville, both of which had not grown bored in the twenty minutes they were left alone. He looked morose for a moment--probably thinking of his wife. 

"Thank you so much," said Remus.

"Mmm," Sirius agreed, "we really appreciate this."

"Of course. Keeps me occupied," Frank murmured. "Who knows? Maybe Harry will enjoy some of Neville's magical playthings. They're much better than his muggle ones." There was a sad twinkle in his eye as he looked away from the boys and back at Remus and Sirius.

"We'll get going, then," Remus said, suddenly sounding terse. He stood and put his plate in the sink, and Sirius followed suit. He noticed that they were pushing the time a little. It was only five in the afternoon, and the moon wouldn't be up for a long time yet, but Remus always got antsy before the transformation.

He put a comforting hand on the small of Remus' back while they rinsed off the dishes. He was tense, and probably more than ready to go.

Frank helped clean up, and then gathered up the boys. He flooed back to his home, and then Sirius and Remus apparated out to the forest, where they hoped there would be no people to hurt.

* * *

It was a heavily wooded area, far enough away from muggle campsites. It was already dark under the cover of the trees, and terribly cold. As soon as they were there, Sirius turned into his animagus form.

It was always easier to comfort Remus in dog form.

Remus sat against the back of a tree, bundled in a set of robes that Sirius didn't recognize. He was shivering, so Sirius curled up in his lap to keep them both warm.

Sirius didn't know where Remus had been for his last several transformations without him. He wondered if he still came to these woods, and how he managed without someone to comfort him.

That first month after their fight, just after James and Lily had gone into hiding, Sirius had come to the forest anyway and waited for Remus, just to see if he would be there. He wasn't, though.

Sirius wondered if Remus had already gone to the pack in London by then. He hoped not. From what he had heard about them, packs were wretched places, and he didn't want to think about his Moony having to live in such terrible conditions.

He thumped his tail as Remus shivered one last time. The forest had gone completely dark, and the moon would be rising soon. Sirius nudged him before getting up, allowing him the space to transform.

It was always hard to watch. But the good thing about the forest was that Moony could run, and he wasn't holed up in a shack trying to tear himself apart. 

Sirius didn't want Moony to ever tear himself apart.

* * *

Sirius had stayed awake the whole night, and had been there to watch Remus come back to his humanity. He was passed out naked on the forest floor, though not terribly scratched up.

He wrapped him up in the robes he had brought and then side-alonged him back to the flat. Their home. 

He put Remus in the bed to let him rest, wrapping him in blankets. He looked exhausted, and Sirius was remiss to leave him alone. But he would only be gone for a few minutes.

He used the Floo to get to the Longbottom's house. He found Frank trying to spoon-feed Harry porridge while Neville stuck his hand in his own and smeared it all over his face.

The other man looked exhausted, but happy. Before he sent Sirius and Harry off, he gave him one of Neville's magical toys as a gift. It was a colorful block that would change shape if Harry managed his magic.

"It's kind of like exercising speech," Frank explained. "He'll learn how to control his magic sooner. Or, at least that's what Alice told me."

Sirius thanked him after that, not particularly wanting to hear Frank get emotional over Alice again. He was having enough trouble coping with James' death, as selfish as that sounded.

"Remus is feeling ill," he explained hastily. "I have to get back to him."

Frank raised a curious eyebrow. "Exciting night?" 

"Not particularly," Sirius grumbled, not appreciating the insinuation. "You might remember from school; Remus is sick a lot."

"Oh, of course." Frank nodded in thought. "So, I suppose Harry will come to visit again?"

"If he enjoyed it," he replied with a smile, scratching his head. "I mean, it's probably good to keep him around other kids."

Frank had laughed, and then sent him on his way. Sirius realized that flooing with a child in one's arms was terrifying, but he made it back through the fireplace in his flat without issue.

Remus was stil asleep when he got back. Sirius, equally as tired, decided he would be fine leaving Harry in the crib if he decided to have a nap, too. He wouldn't be that far away, anyhow.

So, he left Harry with his new magical toy in the crib next to the bed. Sirius slipped in next to Remus, unashamedly wrapping his arms around him and settling his chin into the crook of his neck.

The other man stirred a little, but only to make a tired and happy sound in the back of his throat, and then he fell asleep.

Sirius didn't mind it, really. Remus was warm and familiar and smelled rather unique--still like the forest from last night, a reminder of his wildness, but still rather homey, like cinnamon and soap.

Besides, it was easier to share than sleep on the couch. There was only one bed, and it was more comfortable.

He wondered why they hadn't thought to share before as he curled in closer to the warm body next to him. Exhaustion gripped him from his night in the forest, and soon, he was lulled into the soft waves and whispers of dreams.

It was the best sleep he had in months.


	5. Movement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little weird sometimes, having to write with Harry being there but not contributing as a character. He's still too young.

All things heal with time.

A couple of months down the road, Harry was beginning to try and walk around, and his communication had begun to grow beyond crying and giggling. Small steps and small words became the brightest part of Remus and Sirius' day, and slowly, they forgot their pain.

Sirius had begun to go out again, and he had started taking better of himself. Every day, his grief faded a little more and was replaced by the light in his life that Harry and Remus supplied. His good humor began to return, and he made it a point to laugh at least once every day.

Some days were hard, and he began to think of James again, or memories of the war would haunt his dreams. Sometimes, Harry seemed so familiar it hurt, or Remus would say something that would pull him back to his days at Hogwarts, and he would feel like he was missing something.

But absense was mostly treated as nostalgia, and every day, Sirius was waking up.

Waking up to Remus next to him (on lucky and rare nights when neither wanted the couch), waking up to Harry's bubbling giggles, waking up to a solid routine, waking up to the curtains open to let in the light.

He also woke up to letters from Dumbledore, which were never quite so pleasant, though not always bearing bad news. For example, they were constantly being cautioned against venturing into more populated wizarding areas, but they had been told there would be no need to sign a contract.

That didn't mean Dumbledore wouldn't be keeping a close eye on them, of course.

The best letter by far was when they had found out James had Harry everything, and there was nothing Dumbledore could do to stop that (though Sirius sincerely hoped the old wizard had to reason to). A Gringotts account had been made for the boy, and while Sirius could not access that, he had been granted legal ownership of the house in Godric's Hollow, as well as James' possessions. His Invisibility Cloak and the Maurauder's Map were included in the spoils, which both pleased Sirius to no end and filled him with nostalgia.

But there were worse letters as well. Even the holiday cards were passive agressive reminders to stay in line. 

They were drawing to the end of December (towards Christmas, which explained the card), and the cold was beginning to grow old on them. It was too cold, too gloomy, to boring. And yet they were still trapped, just because Dumbledore preffered it.

"We should just leave," Sirius growled when he opened the card. It was harmless on the outside, a dancing tree that reeked of peppermint. On the inside, however, there was a note reminding them to "stay responsible."

"What do you mean?" Remus inquired with a yawn. He was sipping his morning tea, still barely awake. He was endearing when he was like that.

"Just go. Somewhere warm, somewhere new. Some place where I don't have to borrow half your sweaters, and Dumbledore doens't have to worry about us getting caught with Harry." Sirius was just so tired of the flat, of the boring town they lived in, of never being to do anything. They were constantly being monitored and being reminded by Dumbledore of just how precarious there situation was.

They hadn't even been  _allowed_ to visit Godric's Hollow yet to pay their respects. Sirius had once wanted to believe that Dumbledore couldn't control them, but his ways were subtle. Passve agressive. He didn't like it.

"Where do you have in mind?" asked Remus, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinked in surprise. He hadn't actually expected Remus to be open to it.

"I don't know," he confessed. "Could we even do it? Would Dumbledore even let us?" 

Remus let out a long sigh that blew the steam from his tea over to Harry, who breathed it in and sneezed loudly. He rocked around in the high chair that they had gotten him.

They both stared at him for a moment, and Remus seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

"Let's just forget Dumbledore for now, okay?" he said at last, a determined look setting on his face. "It's not good for any of us being holed up in town. Let's just go somewhere."

Sirius grinned at him and couldn't help but reach across the table to take Remus' hand. He blushed in the way he always did when they shared those small touches, and Sirius smiled at him.  _Beamed_ at him, really, given the joy he was feeling.

"While we're not giving a fuck about Dumbledore," he suggested, "why don't we finally go to Godric's Hollow? We have some business there, after all." Frank had told them the Potters had been buried in the cemetery there, and that there was even a lovely shrine that had been put there to commemorate them. 

"Let's," Remus agreed, giving his hand a squeeze. "No one's stopping us, after all."

* * *

They had arrived at Godric's Hollow the next day, a Sunday, wearing their least conspicuous wizarding robes. Harry had his own winter wrappings, and Remus had even found a hat to hide his scar. It wasn't much of a disguise, but they assumed it would be enough.

It wasn't as though they were committing a crime, after all.

Godric's Hollow in December was a lovely sight, draped in snow and smelling of warm woodsmoke. The morning sky faded white into eternity from the clouds, and they could hear hymns from the nearby church.

Remus was the one carrying Harry, making sure that the warming charms and several layers of clothing kept his infantile body. Sirius walked a few paces ahead, taking in the freshness of the morning and relishing in finally being truly  _away._

It wasn't a long walk until they saw the statue left for Lily and James. It was covered in flowers at its base, gifts from appreciative strangers. It bore a striking resemblance to the Potters, and even the representation of Harry wasn't that far off from the real thing in Remus' arms.

Sirius couldn't stop his eyes from watering when he saw it. He stood for a long moment, contemplating James and Lily and their death and how much he had managed to move on already. 

Yes, it hurt, but he was strong.

"Should we go to the graves now?" he inquired after a long several minutes. He wiped the tears from his face that were beginning to sting from the cold.

"This way," Remus replied, beginning to walk into the snow-covered graveyard.

It was surreal. Sirius hadn't ever had closure for their deaths, and now he was walking up to where their dead bodies had settled, and were probably beginning to decompose. 

It didn't take long to find the graves. They were still freshly dug, rising slightly out of the ground, though the snow still covered the headstone the same as all the others.

After wiping off the stone to reveal the names, Sirius knelt down in front of it. He didn't know what to do, so he sat in silence for a long moment. Remus hung back.

Eventually, though, words were falling out of his lips, drifting into the air on frosted breaths and lingering. He fancied for a moment that perhaps James' spirit was catching them, that perhaps he could hear him, but it was a passing thought.

"I miss you like hell," he whispered, a dry laugh escaping his mouth. "It's funny to think that I no longer breathe the same air you do. That I won't be able to floo you any time I'm in a catch, that you're not really _there_ anymore." His voice caught in his throat, but he willed himself to continue.

"It's alright, though. You're still there in my heart--and you can't even call me sappy for saying that, can you?" He didn't even regret his humor. James would have aprreciated it. "Harry's here, too," he continued, "and I'm going to tell him all about you. Moony will, too. He's doing a great job so far; you'd be proud." He smiled as he heard Remus' breathy laughter from behind him.

"It's a bloody shame you're gone, James," he breathed, shivering as he heard the words hang in the air. "But we'll be okay. Harry's a brilliant kid, from what I can tell. So, thank you." He pressed a hand to the headstone, and more quietly, he repeated, "Thank you so much."

Then, Remus' hand was on his shoulder. Sirius stood up and took Harry from him, and took a few steps away as Remus knelt by the grave and murmured his own respects. He didn't hear what he said, but he could feel Remus' magic from there, which was rare for him.

It was sparking, deep, sad. 

They were both hurt after James died, even if Remus didn't show it as much. 

He was kneeling in front of the grave for what felt like an eternity. When he stood up to face Sirius, his cheeks were bright red from the cold and from tears.

Sirius shifted Harry in his arms so he could reach out with a hand to touch Remus' face. The other man didn't even flinch, having grown used to his affections by then.

They stood that way for a moment, Harry between them and Sirius caressing Remus' cheek. 

The moment ended when Remus stepped away, seeming to have seen something. Sirius turned around to look, not at all surprised to see it was Dumbledore. He had a way of showing up like that. 

"I was wondering when you two would stop by," the Headmaster said casually, moving in closer so he could speak quietly with them. "You've certainly taken your time away from the world."

"As you seemed to encourage," Remus pointed out wryly, crossing his arms. "We weren't sure if you wanted us here."

"But you had to come eventually, didn't you?" Dumbledore said it as if he were pondering something, a smile ghosting his bearded face. "I was expecting it, at least."

"What do you want, Albus?" It was the least Sirius could to to use his first name. It made him feel as though they were equals, if just for a second.

"To talk, of course," he replied. "I wanted to know if you planned to move into the Potter's house here. It's waiting for you." His expression was completely unreadable. In that moment, he was just Dumbledore, or perhaps any ordinary old wizard--grey robes swishing in the cold breeze, blue eyes twinkling against bearded cheeks.

It was all too ordinary, Sirius thought. He had spent months villainizing the man, and he was just as normal as he always was. For a moment, he wondered if he had been being to harsh, playing his bitterness out and projecting it onto the headmaster.

"What's the catch?" Remus demanded, always the voice of reason.

Dumbledore tilted his head. "Do you call a Fidelius Charm a catch, Lupin?" he inquired. "It would only be there to ensure your safety, of course."

Sirius didn't think that was terribly unreasonable. Perhaps the cold was getting to his head, or it was all the damned  _feelings_ he was having that were cluttering his mind, but he thought it was a good offer.

"I wouldn't," he responded. "I would like to live around here. Remus?'

Remus frowned in careful consideration, but when his eyes fell on Harry, he seemed to make up his mind.

"It would be good raising him here," he decided, "and I think James and Lily would have preferred it. It will certainly be refreshing to have a house." 

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Excellent!" He clapped Remus on the shoulder, and sent Sirius and Harry a grin. "A good decision."

"I think so," Sirius agreed. "But I did have a question." He glanced over at Remus, who was watching him curiously.

"What is it?" the Headmaster inquired.

"Since you seem so set on telling us what to do," Sirius couldn't resist snarking, "I was wondering what you thought of Remus and I travelling. Harry's less likely to be pestered abroad, after all."

The old man furrowed his brow, and he looked much more like Dumbledore again--thoughtful, calculating. His gaze pored into Sirius for a minute, and then he spoke up again.

"I don't see a problem with it, so long as you aren't engaging in any Dark or otherwise dangerous activities."

Sirius couldn't help but grin. "Excellent."

"Thank you," Remus added, though he sounded a bit reluctant. "Will that be all, Professor?"

"That will be all," he answered. "That was all I needed." Then, in a most dramatic fashion, he winked at them and Apparated away with a  _snap._

Remus was already scowling, though, and he began to stalk back into the village.

"Can you believe that?" he muttered. "Making us feel like we have a semblance of freedom by making us think we want something, when it was his idea all along. And acting so  _cheery_ and _respectful."_ He scoffed and kicked at the snow. "I hate it!"

Sirius blinked in confusion, and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the realization that he had been duped. Dazed by Dumbledore's presence, he hadn't even noticed.

"He could have fooled me," he grumbled, walking faster to catch up.

That was the problem with Dumbledore. He seemed to often have the upper hand, and catch you when you were vulnerable, more likely to be ready to take his advice.

Sirius hoped he wouldn't be fooled again.

* * *

The move into the house in Godric's Hollow didn't take long. The house had been repaired in the months since the end of the war, and it was mostly furnished already. 

It wasn't as though they had much to take with them anyway. The Potters had been much more prepared for childraising, and even after a good portion of the house and items within had been destroyed, it was still better off than Sirius' flat.

Remus seemed to create his own sense of home there. It didn't take long for him to hang up his own pictures (mostly of James and them when they were young, and some of Lily) and bring in his own ugly tablecloths. He managed to procure some scratchy wool blankets to cover the sofas and beds with, too.

In a few days, the house was smelling like his tea, too. Sirius was completely overwhelmed by the influence of being surrounded by Remus.  _  
_

The only problem, in his opinion, was that they had more than one bed now. He no longer had an excuse to crawl into bed with him. That first night in Godric's Hollow, he had missed his warmth and his scent and his touch. He even missed the closeness of Harry, whose crib had been moved into the nursery.

The first few days, Sirius had felt like a ghost. He couldn't help but relive the moment he had found James' body. It filled his mind every time he entered the living room. Even the nursery felt wrong to him.

Remus had noticed, too. It was probably obvious, though, considering Sirius froze in place whenever a flashback overtook him.

"You don't like it here," he remarked. He was by the fireplace, and had just finished reading an alphabet book to Harry, now that the boy was asleep. "I don't know how I feel about it either."

"It feels wrong," Sirius admitted. "This was James' and Lily's home, not ours. I feel like we've just barged in and replaced them before their souls have even settled." He ran a nervous hand through his hair, and found himself staring at that one fucking spot on the floor. 

He tried not to see James there, but the image was ingrained in his mind.

"You're right," Remus agreed, getting up to stand in front of Sirius. He lifted his chin, which forced him to look away from the spot and up at Remus. "You're doing worse," he added.

Sirius closed his eyes and nodded gravely. "I don't think I can stay here. I don't know what I was thinking."

He felt Remus pull him into a hug, and he was comforted by the embrace and the soft breathing next to the air. Not for the first time, he found his mind wandering to another place, a place where he wasn't so lost for James, a place where maybe Moony had been there all along. A place where maybe Moony could stay with him forever.

"Then we'll leave," Remus answered, and Sirius felt warmed by the words. "We'll go abroad, and when you're ready, we can come back."

"What about Harry?" Doubt filled Sirius' mind, and he was hardly capable of coherent thought.

Remus laughed softly, a puff of warm air. "We take him with us. He's getting bigger; he can handle travel, so long as we make sure to medicate him."

"You're always so rational, Moony."

Remus pulled away, and Sirius opened his eyes to see him grinning. 

"That's what I'm here for, aren't I?" he inquired lightly. "To keep you going straight."

"More than that," Sirius mumbled, but Remus was already turning away.

"Now, come up with a place you want to go, and we'll get a portkey."

 

 


	6. Greece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get away from everything to think.  
> Sirius is beginning to sort his issues out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot any mistakes, please let me know! Typing on an iPhone is miserable work.

Sirius had chosen Greece.

It didn't feel much like a holiday as it did like an escape. He felt like a refugee, finally escaping from his past and his struggles. Everything that had happened seem to fade away, and he felt like he was in a different world.

In between taking care of Harry and having fun, he and Remus worked small jobs to keep them under a roof and put food on the table. They worked small jobs helping out on farms and in markets, and Harry was adored wherever they went.

It seemed that while the news of Britain's war had spread to some of the magical communities in Greece, no one seemed to recognize Harry. They had a lot more freedom there, not having to hide anymore or worry about Dumbledore disapproving of their actions.

They were just two best friends, wandering the countryside together. Sometimes, people would ask them if they were homosexuals, which put them in compromising situations. It was legal there, of course, but not generally accepted. And they didn't want to get persecuted for anything that didn't apply to them, of course.

It was obvious to everyone that Harry was not either of the men's child. His skin was several shades darker than theirs, and they didn't have Harry's same piercing green eyes. But it was often overlooked in the favor of fawning over Harry and assuring them that he would grow up to be quite handsome. 

Sirius learned more about being a father (though he was loathe to call himself that quite yet) in Greece than he had giving it a go back in England. Being able to be with Harry out in the real world was an experience nothing like sulking about at home.

For a while, they stayed with a family with a boy Harry's age, as well as several older children. The mother was a warm woman, all hugs and smiles and delicious food. The children were always laughing, and they all took part in taking care of Harry while Sirius worked with their father, and Remus was away helping the oldest son with his gardening work.

The father, Nikolas, had always been giving Sirius good advice when he helped him run his shop.

"When your boy gets big, don't expect him to be just like you," the man said, sitting on a stool and watching as Sirius organized his stock shelves. "He's his own person, and you'll have to learn to accept that."

As wise as the man's words would come to be, he wasn't worried at the time. "Harry will be fine, no matter what. He's Prongs' boy, after all." He had chuckled at that, his hand going still for a moment as he set down the box.

"I hear you speak about this Prongs often," Nikolas mused. "You miss him?"

"He was my best friend," Sirius confessed, turning around to face the man with crossed arms. It felt strange to mention it to this near stranger, but he supposed it would help to talk. "He and his wife, Harry's mum, died--died in a car crash." He bit his lip, trying not to cry. 

"And what about your Remus? He is here now." Nikolas had a soft expression on his scruffy face, full of sympathy. Sirius thought he would have liked to have him as a father. 

"He's dear to me, but I can't just forget James--Prongs. I loved him, you know? There's a part of me that was his, and now he'a gone." He crossed his arme and sucked in a breath. "Remus reminds me of the good old days, and Harry is wonderful, but they're not him." 

Nikolas stood up and clapped his shoulder. "And they never will be, got it? Harry is not Prongs, and Remus is Remus. Love them like you can, cherish!" A smile broke onto his lips, and Sirius found himself laughing through tears he hadn't realized were there. 

"I'll try," he answered, wiping at his eyes. "I do love them, you know."

Something twinkled in the man's eye, and he stepped back from Sirius.

"That is obvious," he said. "But you must wash up now, before a customer comes in. And when we go home, you should smile and greet the family happily. You will feel better."

When they got back to the house, Sirius had smacked a kiss to Harry's forehead, which sent the boy laughing as he tugged at Sirius' hair. Then, Harry clinging to him, he had turned and kissed the cheek on an unexpected Remus, who turned bright red and mumbled something about needing to tend to the garden.

Sirius had begun to feel very at home there, and he began to believe the story he told himself, that his life was in Greece. With the translation charms and all the local hospitality, it was easy to believe.

But the nights of the full moon brought him crashing back to reality. Those nights were always terrifying, and he had to try very hard to keep them away from anywhere there were people. Greece seemed to small for a werewolf to roam free, even if he had a very sentient dog trying to guide him in the right direction.

The day after the full moon was never so bad. Remus would mostly sleep, and Sirius would cuddle up close to him in a way he was never quite as comfortable with any other time. It gave him an excuse to do something he didn't entirely know if he should really be wanting to do.

By then, they weren't staying with Nikolas and his family, but rather at a cheap seaside inn. There had been no other people to question their sleeping habits, but it also meant that there was no one to Sirius to talk about his feelings with.

Except Harry, who was an avid listener (though he wasn't that great at answering). 

"Moony is wonderful," Sirius told Harry while Remus was away at the market. "He does all sorts of wonderful things for us, doens't he?"

"Mmmmm," Harry answered, busy chewing on a green blanket that he had grown too fond of.

"He makes me very happy, you know. I feel wonderful whenever I'm around him." He sighed as he said it, knowing how he sounded. "But you don't care about that sort of thing yet, do you?" He ruffled Harry's hair.

"Buh," Harry answered indifferently, grasping at one of Sirius' fingers. 

"You don't mind if I talk?" Sirius inferred. 

Harry made a snorting noise, which he took as a yes.

"You know how I love to cuddle with your Moony, just like you do," he continued, while the toddler played with Sirius' fingers. "That's family love, isn't it? That's why I want to be close to him. It's family."

Harry snorted again and let go of his hand, looking up at him with big, knowing green eyes.

"Yeah, I thought not," Sirius sighed. "I'm completely fu--I mean, I'm just lonely, isn't that it? I'm just lonely."

"Nnnnmm." Harry picked up his blanket and resumed chewing on it. 

"I can't feel that way about Moony. He's just here to help me with you. He wouldn't appreciate any advances. I mean, he's straight!" He wasn't talking to Harry anymore, now muttering to himself like a mad man.

"But he's so wonderful. He's been there for he all this time, hasn't he? And he's bloody ridiculous, with his tea and his sweaters and his cuddles..." He buried his head in his arms, realizing just how hopeless he was. "How long have I thought these things? When did I realize how wonderful Moony was?"

He thought of how torn up he had been after Remus had left because if their fight. How empty the flat had been without him, how antsy he had been. How he had turned his attention to worrying about James and Lily, because at least he knew where they were. 

He remembered all the effort he had put out as a boy at Hogwarts just to make Remus smile, just to make him join in and be included.

Maybe it wasn't just James all along. Maybe Moony had been in his heart all along, too.

It was just that what he felt for James had been so much bigger, so much more obtrusive. Like James himself. What he felt for Moony was warmer, quieter, closer to home. 

And the pain when James had left had burned like a a blue flame, searing into him with a horrid pain, and also a numbness, that made it hard to feel anything else. 

"I can't think of your father anymore," Sirius murmured, turning his attention back to Harry. "I need to be thinking more about being with you and Moony." 

"Moons," Harry cooed in response. 

"What'd you say?" Sirius asked, sitting up in surprise. Harry hadn't spoken a clear word like that before.

"Moons!" Harry giggled, pointing behind Sirius. 

He spun around and saw Remus leaning in the doorway, a smile on his face. He set down the bags he was carrying and entered the room.

"That's right, Harry!" he laughed. "I'm home."

Sirius stood up to greet him. "How long were you standing there?" he asked nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. 

Remus shrugged and pulled him into a quick hug. "Barely a minute," he answered, his breath skating past Sirius' ear. "I saw you hunched over for a bit, and then you sat up and had your little revelation."

Sirius felt himself blush as he pulled away, glad Remus didn't hear the rest of it.

"It took me long enough, didn't it?"

Remus laughed. "You needed time. You're feeling better?"

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, deciding he didn't really want to talk about it. "How was the market?"

"Good," he answered, turning around to gather the bags. "Got enough fresh stuff to last us a few days." He paused for a moment, and then looked Sirius directly in the eye. "After that, we could go home, you know. If you're ready."

Sirius wanted to go home. _Home_. Godric's Hollow. England.

"I'll think about it," he said.

So, it was a few nights later, in that inn next to the sea, when Harry was just beginning to speak and had begun walking on two feet, that they decided it was time to return.

"You're sure you're ready to go home?" Remus asked him quietly. They were sitting on the bed together, and Harry was crawling on the floor, distracted by his surroundings.

"If you'd call it home," Sirius said with a sigh, staring at his feet. "But we've been here for nearly three months, Remus. Springtime is coming soon."

Remus smiled at him. "I'm glad you're ready to go back," he admitted quietly. He startled Sirius by leaning in and resting his head on his shoulder. "We can leave whenever you want."

"Does that apply when we're back in England?"

"If you like."

Sirius sighed, closed his eyes, and tried to imagine life back at Godric's Hollow.

For once, he didn't think of James.


	7. Bad Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank, Sirius and Remus celebrate Harry's birthday. Later, Remus has a rough transformation.

It was Harry's second birthday.

After Greece, they had lived in Godric's Hollow on and off. They realized it was often easier to stay abroad for all of them. There was some sort of comfort in having a safe place to come home to, even if it was laced with bad memories.

But Harry's birthday was a day for making good memories. They'd had him for nearly an entire year by then (if you rounded up a bit), and the house at Godric's Hollow had been theirs for nearly six months.

Frank brought Neville to celebrate, and Dumbledore stopped by for a quick visit. He had calmed down considerably since their last meeting, and Sirius no longer harbored as much animosity towards the man. 

Time away made him easier to tolerate, he supposed. It also was helpful that he had been busy with preparing Hogwarts for the new school year. He was much more enjoyable when he was sticking his nose into other people's business.

Though, Sirius had been irked when Dumbledore's birthday gift to Harry was to reinforce the Fidelius Charm around the house. Living there was going to turn them invisible--just another reason to stay abroad.

But, after the Headmaster left, there was laughing and Butterbeer and shitty, sappy songs playing on the radio. It was a wonderful day, and things were looking up.

"Pads, Pads! Look!" Harry giggled, rolling all over the carpet in the living room. He was holding his toes with his hands and lying on his back, having a grand time.

Sirius looked up from his Quidditch magazine that he was reading on the counter. "Brilliant, Harry!" he responded, getting up to sit with the boy on the floor. He flashed Remus a smirk--Harry had just learned his name, too, and he used it as often as he could.

Neville was not too far away, making whooshing noises as he picked up the muggle toy car and made it fly in the air.

Frank was reclining on the sofa, drinking his Butterbeer and watching the boys as he hummed along to the radio. He had begun to stay with them a lot, so of course he and Neville were there for Harry's birthday. He claimed it was nice to get away from the family, and not think about Alice, who was still in St. Mungo's and not improving.

"Sirius, are you helping me frost the cake?" Remus called from the kitchen. He decided it was a good occasion to bake ("It's time to establish the tradition!" he had said), even though Harry probably wouldn't care if there was cake or not.

"Only if I get to lick the bowl," Sirius called back with a grin. He ruffled Harry's wispy (but thickening) hair on his head and got up to join Remus.

The cake was already cooling off, and Remus had cast a quick charm to make it happen faster. He was whipping the sugar into the cream when Sirius joined him.

He took the moment alone to ask a question he didn't think Frank would have wanted to hear.

"Do you think that's the last bit of policing Dumbledore will do on us for a while?" Sirius whispered, ducking his head close to Remus' ear.

The other man let out a long sigh, putting down the whisk. "I'm honestly tired of thinking about it," he admitted. "And I'm beginning to think he's right. You've been reading  _The Prophet,_ haven't you? This isn't exactly the best time to be a werewolf. I'm becoming grateful for the privacy."

Sirius felt his heart ache in a pleasant but woeful way, something he had grown used to in the past months whenever he was with Remus. He resiste the urge to touch the other man's face, settling for snatching the whisk from his hand to take a lick of the frosting.

"If you're happy, I'm happy," he said quietly, ignoring the aggressive way that Remus snatched the whisk back from him.

"The Ministry Announcement segment's on. Are you two going to come out and listen to this?" Frank called from the living room. "Or are you too busy snogging?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Frank," Remus called back dryly, though he winked at Sirius. "Go see what he's going on about."

"I thought I was helping you frost the cake," Sirius pouted.

"Later."

Sirius sighed and stomped into the living room, his boots landing heavy on the carpet. He saw that Neville and Harry were wrestling (or performing some similar action) on the floor, but Frank was sitting up, tuned into the radio. 

"Shh, listen," Frank said, pointing to the device. 

Sirius began to the crackling, deep radio voice.

"...the Ministry would also like to remind the public, that while it has been six months since the War ended, there is still danger lurking. As the full moon approaches, keep your children indoors at all times and keep away from crowded urban centers and rural danger points. A new werewolf pack has been..."

Sirius shut his eyes. "Why do they eveb bother with these goddamned announcements?" he hissed. "All it does is cause panic."

"It's well justified," Frank replied with a shrug. "You missed the bit I wanted you to hear anyway. Before they went on with werewolves, they were calling for volunteers to testify at the Death Eater trials."

"Those are still going on?" Sirius inquired, though he was wondering when Frank would figure out about Remus. There had to have been a reason for bringing him in just then. 

"...this has been brought to you by the Werewolf Registry."

Frank nodded. "I'm an auror, so I could get you in. Thought you might want to. I'm testifying against Lestrange. You know what she did to..." He trailed off as his eyes pricked with tears. 

Sirius sat down next to him. "Of course I'd want to. It would be a good thing to see Cousin Bella behind bars." 

Frank wiped at his eye and gave a wry laugh. "If only we could get them all. Like that bastard Greyback, speaking of werewolves... They somehow haven't caught him."

"Yeah," Sirius choked. "That's terrible. I hear the Registry is terribly inefficient anyhow. Not that they should arrest anyone for being a werewolf." He scratched his neck and searched Frank's face for a reaction, though he found none. "What d'you think of werewolves, Frank?"

Before Frank could answer, a Celestina Warbeck song came onto the radio, and Remus came into the room. 

"Turn that thing off!" he exclaimed, though he was grinning. "I don't want those lyrics turning Harry's brain to mush before he can talk!" 

"Talk!" Harry repeated, having heard his name. He had stopped playing with Neville, apparently, and now he set down his block to look up at Remus. 

"Oh my, that's right!" he said cheerily, getting down to touch Harry. 

Both of the other men were chuckling at the interaction. 

"He's certainly bubbly," Frank remarked. "Nev's still not said a word. His grandmother's worried about him."

Remus picked Harry up and began swaying. "Neville will catch up. Now, do you mind taking him to the kitchen? The cake's ready."

They both got up, and Frank retrieved Neville. Sirius padded after them, feeling joyous but also heavy. He knew they would have to tell Frank soon. 

The next full moon, he decided. He would talk to Remus about it after they were done celebrating.

For now, though, he would let his heart be light. Cake, shitty music, and chatting with friends.

It was easy to be happy as soon as they were at the table, with Remus trying (but failing) to cleanly deliver cake to Harry's mouth, and Frank accidentally sloshing butterbeer over his shirt, and both the boys shrieking in delight.

And Remus looked so happy-- _so damn happy_ \--that Sirius forgot all about his frustrations and worries. 

When Remus was happy like that, Sirius was happy, too, and everything was beautiful. Werewolves didn't matter then.

* * *

"I'm guessing I'm taking Harry home tonight?" Frank inquired over dinner. It was still summer, and the August full moon was upon them, but the sun still had a few hours to set, so they could enjoy dinner. 

"As usual," Sirius replied, watching Remus carefully as he poured the wine. The radio was off so there was nothing provocative that might set Remus off. 

He was never happy before a full moon. Tired, antsy, angry--not the Remus that Sirius knew. But he was, sadly, the Remus that Frank had become familiar with. 

Which would make telling him about the werewolf thing all the worse. They had been trying to stay abroad during Remus' transformations so Frank wouldn't become suspicious, but they hadn't made any arrangements to leave since Harry's birthday. 

"So, any fun plans for you two lovebirds?" Frank inquired with a wink. 

Sirius felt his cheeks go hot, and he had seen Remus' entire face go pink. 

"Stop saying that," they both snapped at once. 

Frank rolled his eyes and held his hands up in apology. "There's no need to be defensive," he replied. "I don't see why you two get so worked up about it. There's no need for all this hiding. And I hav no problem with taking Harry in more often so you can have a date--"

"Stop it, Frank," Remus interrupted, his voice gone dark. His hand twitched and he dropped his fork. "As lovely as that would be, real life isn't so pleasant or convenient."

Sirius felt something--his heart?--clench at those words. He met Remus' eye and murmured, "Even if Remus weren't straight"--that something fluttered at the surprised look on Remus' face--"that wouldn't be why we have to leave." 

Frank frowned. "Has it got to do with the Order? You can tell me, you know."

Remus was clenching his fist, creasing his ridiculous blue, flowery table cloth, and he took a deep breath. The look on his face said, _Are you really this stupid?_

The regular Moony wouldn't have gotten angry like this, wouldn't be so frustrated, so tense. But it was the full moon, and he was just hours away from transformation. 

So, Sirius did what he thought made sense--he put his hand on Remus' clenched one. But he pulled away so violently that it hurt, and that was when Sirius realized that this would be a bad moon. 

"Frank, we have to get going," he said quietly. "Rem isn't doing so well, as you can see--"

"I'm fine!" Remus hissed, though his face was twisted in pain. 

"And the sun will be down in a few hours," Sirius continued, without skipping a beat, "so we're running out of time. Take good care of Harry." 

Then, he stood up and was pulling Remus to the door. 

"Take care of yourselves," Frank called after them, looking concerned. "And remember what they said on the radio. There's werewolves about."

Sirius spun Remus around before Frank could see his flash of teeth as he barked, "That hardly matters to me!"

They apparated out to the woods before Frank could get a word in edgewise, and Sirius really hoped their friend would figure it out on his own (and not tell anyone when he did). 

It was warm outside, and Sirius' boots felt clunky when they landed in the soft soil. They would be cumbersome later, but that hardly mattered. 

Remus wrenched away from him as soon as their feet were steady and flung himself at a tree.

"Aarrggh!" he cried. 

Yes, it was going to be a bad moon. 

Sirius wanted to go and comfort him like he did that first moon when they had Harry, but it was no use. 

Remus on a bad moon was wolfish, angry, and hard to talk to or rationalize with. He was mostly brawn and no brains, which was the complete opposite of him on a regular basis. His kind words and rational outlook were gone, and he would rip you apart if you weren't careful. 

Transformations on a bad moon were more painful for him, and he would be exhausted for days afterwards. In wolf form, he was much more violent, and harder to get to. 

On decent moons, better moons--like that first moon--he was just tired, slightly bitter. His transformation would still be bad, and he would still be exhausted afterwards, but he was more Remus than wolf. 

Today, though, was a bad moon, and Sirius just had to remind himself that it wasn't his Remus that was being so terrible. It was the wolf, just having gotten into Remus' head sooner. 

But as Remus flung his body at the tree a second time, he had to stop him. 

"You're going to hurt yourself!" he shouted, taking a step forward with an outstretched arm. 

It would have probably been better if he transformed into his animagus form right then, but he needed to talk to get past the wolf, to get to Remus, before he transformed. 

"What do you care?" Remus snarled, whipping around to glare at him with a curled lip. 

"I care because you shouldn't hurt yourself!" 

Remus' face tightened, but his arms fell to his sides. "That's it, then? That's all? You don't want to have to take care if a damaged Moony in the morning?" He spun on his heel and began to pace, looking thoughtful and wild all at once. 

Remus was still in there, he just couldn't stop himself. And that terrified Sirius. 

"Come on," he reasoned, taking another tentative step forward. "I care about you, Remus. Please don't hurt yourself." He let his voice soften, trying to comfort him. 

He should have known it would have just agitated him more. He kicked at the ground, sending pine needles flying into the air. 

"Oh, shut up," he growled, sounding low and furious. "You only care about yourself. You can't see past your own reflection. You don't really care about me--just yourself. And James, but he's gone, isn't he?" He shook his head bitterly, his gaze snapping upward to bore into Sirius. "That's all you can care about."

That cut to the core. 

"I've gotten better!" he pleaded, hoping that Remus really didn't feel that way. "I'm trying, Moony. For Harry and for you!" 

"And I'm _not_ trying?" Remus snarled, taking a few steps closer. "I gave up everything to take care of you. I was building a _life_ with that pack, but I _chose_ to stay with you! Do you even know what that means, Sirius?" His brown eyes were alight with something primal, something terrifying. 

"Remus, you don't mean that," he choked. "You couldn't have wanted a pack. It would have killed you--"

"Killed me?" Remus laughed, gone cold and harsh. "Maybe you don't know me so well. Maybe it would have killed the side you _think_ you know. But this would have thrived!"

Sirius felt like Remus was stripping away his skin, leaving him aching and bare and in pain. Hearing him say those things was just as bad as finding James that day.

"Stop it, Moony," he begged. "Don't say that. I know you, and this isn't you. You can't go to a pack."

"Just transform, Sirius," he ordered, cold and distant. "I don't want to see you right now. I don't want to hear it."

But Sirius didn't heed the command, and instead he crossed the gap on the forest floor between them to grasp Remus.

"Dammit, Lupin," he hissed, taking him by the shoulders, "can you hear yourself? Are you even in there?"

"I'm here," Remus replied, his voice more level than before, though no less feral. 

"Then listen to me," Sirius ordered, speaking quietly and staring into those bright, burning eyes. "I do care. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm trying."

Remus tried to move away, but it was a feeble attempt, and he was looking less wolfish by the second. 

"I know," he whispered in response, suddenly feeling much less tense in Sirius' grasp. "I know you care. But you don't--"

"Shut up," Sirius cut him off. "I care, okay, Remus? I cared the minute I saw your scrawny ass hop onto the Hogwarts Express in third year. You grew on me, and I kept on caring, and even after James..." he trailed off, realizing he was rambling, but he was relieved to see Remus looked much calmer. 

He forgot himself for a moment, and his hand moved from Remus' shoulder, to his neck, to the back of his head. Both of their breaths caught, and Sirius didn't even know what he was doing--

And then, all at once, Remus' body snapped into a stiff position, and his eyes turned wild and dark, and he was no longer Remus, but the wolf. 

The moon was rising, and it was all Sirius could do but to tumble away as he transformed himself into his fog form, into Padfoot. 

Remus crumpled to the ground, writhing and howling as his body morphed and wrenched and shifted. His mouth was frothing, and he suddenly smelled foul, and Padfoot could practically _feel_ the pain emanating off of him. 

He stilled for but a moment, and then he was completely taken by the wolf. He rolled onto his feet, met Padfoot's eye, and took off running. 

_Catch me._

And Padfoot would. He would chase Moony to the ends of the earth, and he would catch him every time, and take him home, and wish that the next wasn't going to be a bad moon. 


	8. In Quiet Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Godric's Hollow wasn't as cozy as the old flat--mostly because he didn't have an excuse to snuggle up in bed with Remus after the full moon anymore. He had his own bedroom, after all. It was empty and bare because he had thrown away all his old band posters and didn't have the heart to hang up any photographs. It was nothing like Remus', because everything to do with Remus felt so much better and so much like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment we've been waiting for....

Remus was tucked away in his bed back in Godric's Hollow, fast asleep. He looked more peaceful than normal, though his body was covered in new scratches and cuts Sirius didn't want to think about. 

Sirius decided to leave Harry at Frank's, at least for the morning. He was exhausted after the long night, as well, though not as severely as Remus.

He left the other man alone to his rest, and set about making himself a cup of tea. Remus had rubbed off on him that way--got him drinking tea whenever he was upset, got him choosing the responsible things to do.

Even though he had known him since childhood, the past almost-year with Remus had changed him more than anything (though he supposed Harry had helped with that, too). 

After Greece, he realized that he harbored feelings for the other man, though he was just beginning to realize what those meant. What he felt for Remus wasn't the raw, aching, head-spinning infatuation he had for James for most of his adolescence.

What Sirius felt for Remus was warmer, safer, more familiar. There was so much less anxiety, so much less pure longing. 

Perhaps it had to do with his new maturity.

All the same, feelings for Remus felt just as forbidden as feelings for James. James had Lily, and Remus had...

Well, he didn't quite know what Remus had. He just knew--thought--that Remus would never want him. 

Godric's Hollow wasn't as cozy as the old flat--mostly because he didn't have an excuse to snuggle up in bed with Remus after the full moon anymore. He had his own bedroom, after all. It was empty and bare because he had thrown away all his old band posters and didn't have the heart to hang up any photographs. It was nothing like Remus', because everything to do with Remus felt so much better and so much like _home._

Even when they were abroad, he had found excuses to crawl into Remus' bed, to hold him, to share comfort with him. It was something neither of them had before when they were young, which made it seem so unfair to Sirius. 

Remus felt like _his_ when they were close like that. In the same bed, breathing the same breaths, bodies close--he could imagine they were lovers, a couple, a family. 

But they weren't, and as close as they were, Remus wasn't his in that way. He was staying for Harry.

Wasn't he?

Sirius forgot all about his tea and decided to fuck it and go to Remus--because, _Merlin_ , he had it bad. 

Remus was still asleep, the covers pulled up to his neck and his face half-buried in the pillow. It was dark, the blinds drawn, and Sirius sat down on the side of the bed. He kicked his boots off, and slid in next to Remus.

He stirred slightly, but didn't seem to wake. Sirius sidled up close to him, relishing his warmth, knowing it was probably unfair....

He slid a hand into Remus' hair to mess with the curls and wrapped his other arm around him, pulling him closer.

Remus stirred again. "Sirius?" he mumbled, shifting closer. 

"Here," Sirius whispered, absently running his hand through the other man's curls, hoping he wouldn't mind.

"It's been a few months since you've done this." Remus chuckled and rolled over slowly to face Sirius. His eyes were bright and clear, no longer tainted with the wildness of the wolf. He just looked tired. Worn.

"You don't mind?" he inquired softly, remembering that he had seemed to be fully unconscious most of the other times he had done it. 

"I never mind," Remus replied as he moved in closer, resting his head against Sirius' chest. 

Sirius didn't really know what to say or do, so he put his arms around the other man and stroked along his back, feeling around the new cuts that he would set to healing when they were both better-rested. None were very deep, and Remus was content to let out small, satisfied sounds as Sirius petted at him. All that was separating them was the thin material of the cotton shirt.

They both fell into a relaxed rhythm of breathing and feeling and healing. It was soft, comfortable, and all-encompassing. 

"I'm sorry," Remus said out of the blue, seeming to jolt from his sleepy haze. 

"For what?"

"For saying those things last night," Remus answered, his body going taught. "I was terrible to you."

"That wasn't you."

"It was," Remus choked, inching away, recoiling in guilt. "I think those things. I just usually know better than to say them."

Sirius knew that. But he didn't care. "It's okay," he assured him, moving a hand back into those soft, auburn curls. 

"I know you care about me," Remus clarified, letting out a sigh. His face softened in something akin to relief. "You're right here...."

"I'm right here." Sirius closed his eyes and focused on breathing. "I'll stay right here. As long as you like."

They were quiet for a long time after that. All Sirius could focus on was how close they were, how warm it us, how clouded his head was becoming. The muted tones of the room all but faded out of existence, and all there was to him was Remus. His just-barely tanned skin, the bags beneath his eyes, the thin white scar that puckered along his cheekbone, trailing behind his ear, the reddish stubble that was beginning to show, the way he slowly stilled in his arms...

He was sure that Remus had fallen asleep. His breathing was steady and peaceful, and his eyes were closed.

But then Remus stirred minutely, and his eyes flickered open. He stared for a long moment, looking very vulnerable, but very content.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice nothing more than a breath. 

Sirius stiffened. Had he heard that right? He couldn't have...

"What?" he asked, looking into those amber eyes and trying to decipher what he saw. He felt his stomach flip as his pulse threatened to leap out of his skin.

Remus stiffened, too, and pulled away, sitting up and staring at Sirius in horror.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I didn't mean to--I didn't want--"

"It's fine," Sirius replied, sitting up as well. He felt as though he were dreaming; the reality of Remus' form was slipping away as his focus dimmed and there was only the hammering reality of words. "I just didn't know," he added. He sounded much calmer than he actually felt.

Remus blinked, and then he laughed wryly, the exhaustion showing on his face. "I thought I was being obvious," he admitted, looking away. "I thought you knew, and didn't care."

Sirius sighed, feeling like such a sap but not caring, because it just hit him that Remus had said that _he loved him_. He reached over to take his hand. 

"I think I love you, too," he said quietly, a smile forming on his lips. "I thought you were straight, though."

Remus laughed, and he laid back down next to him like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Have you ever seen me with a girl?"

"No," Sirius admitted sheepishly. "But I couldn't see why you would love _me_."

Remus pulled Sirius down next to him (rather gruffly). He had an agitated air to him that made it feel much more normal, much less like a dream.

"Merlin's tits," Remus grumbled. "I ran into your arms, moved into your house without question, and agreed to help you raise a bloody _child_. I've followed you everywhere, and all I do revolves around you. How could I not seem to be hopelessly in love?"

"I thought I was just burdening you," Sirius answered, feeling like an idiot. "How could you not see that I--that I love _you_?" The words felt strange coming from his lips, but at the same time terribly right. 

"I thought you still loved James." The bitterness was still clear in his tone. 

"I can't change that," he whispered as he moved his face closer to Remus'. "But that doesn't mean I can't love you. Maybe I always have, and I just haven't realized."

Remus seemed to like that answer, and he smiled and closed his eyes.

To Sirius, it still felt unfair. Like he was still taking advantage. But he couldn't place it, and he was tired, and Remus was so close to him that he just wanted to press a kiss to his face.

"I'm falling asleep," Remus murmured. "I don't want this to end up being a dream."

"It's not," Sirius promised. "I'll tell you when you wake up."

Remus hummed and quickly fell asleep, a smile just barely playing on the corners of his lips.

Sirius caressed his face, and thought he should have felt happier than he did. 

He just hoped he would give Remus what he deserved.

* * *

Remus showed no sign of waking that afternoon, but Sirius was restless. He set himself on using healing spells to clean the other man up as best he could while he slept. 

He wondered what Remus would say when he woke up. If he would apologize again, if he would take it back, if he would blame it on his exhaustion.

He hoped that wouldn't be the case, and deep down he knew it wasn't (because Remus always said what he meant). 

That filled Sirius with both joy (that Remus could possibly feel that way for him), and with unease (because Remus seemed so much more sure in his love than he did). 

He wondered if he could be enough for Remus, if he could give him what he thought he wanted. 

He thought of all this as he pulled back the covers and trailed his wand over all of the new cuts and scars that had made their mark on Remus' body. After that morning, healing him felt much more personal and permissible than it had been other months, and he wished that the other man was awake.

But his breathing stayed deep and steady and slow, and he supposed it was time to go and get their boy back.

 _Our boy._ Was it wrong to call Harry that? 

He was frowning as he went through the floo to the Longbottom house.

Frank had given Harry back to Sirius without much word or speculation, though he had ranted on about the Death Eater trials for a while. Apparently, the Malfoy's wouldn't be going on trial. Dumbledore vouched for them.

Sirius was truly beginning to question that man's logic. He wondered if the Malfoy's had to stay in hiding and abide all of the Headmaster's rules. 

He wondered. 


	9. What Is Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius spun around, still in his embrace, and faced him, having to look up at the taller man. He took a moment to note the freckles under his eyes and the way his amber eyes watched over short lashes and--
> 
> And he had to say something. He wasn't allowed to just stare at him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> toddlers are weird and hard to portray.

The next full moon was over a week away, but there were no early signs that there would be anything wrong. 

In fact, there weren't really signs of anything. Ever since their confessions, not much hand changed. Things had gone stagnant between them. 

Sirius had busied himself by writing letters of testimony for the trials of the Death Eaters, and had just gotten back from speaking at Bellatrix Lestrange's trial. It had seemed the right thing to do, to land her in prison. She of all people deserved it.

Remus wanted no part of it, of course. His fear of the Ministry was growing stronger, as more and more anti-werewolf propaganda was being released. He was fully embracing Dumbledore's advice to lie low.

They hadn't even gone out of country for fear of the Portkey office, as many times as Sirius had promised to do it himself.

Now that Harry was getting too heavy to carry and beginning to want to walk on his own, it made sense not to travel anyway. It was better that they stay at home until he was older and completely mobile, and not to mention the diseases he might catch. 

So, it was September, and they were at home. Dumbledore had been absent for some time, and neither of them had had any nightmares in some time, so things were going well.

Besides the fact, of course, that Remus had been acting like a damn thing had never happened between them, as if they hadn't been in love all along. 

Or as if they weren't anymore. 

But Sirius kept himself in line, never bringing it up since Remus clearly didn't want to discuss it. Besides, they had an obligation to care for Harry first, and they didn't want to damage that. 

He was reflecting upon all this as he pretended to read his Quidditch magazine, discreetly watching Remus with Harry. 

They were on the floor (newly carpeted--fresh smelling, soft and inviting), Harry in his Moony's lap. He was better at walking than he was at talking so far, so Remus had begun to try and teach him words and letters. 

He was holding a book, apparently trying to get Harry to identify the pictures. It seemed terribly mundane, however, because Harry wasn't paying attention. He was busy pulling on the threads of the sleeves on Remus' grey jumper.

"What's that, Harry?" he asked patiently, pointing to the picture of a sheep in the book.

Harry wasn't looking. He awkwardly twisted to look up at Remus. 

"Moons!" he cried, sounding pleading. 

Sirius chuckled, deciding he was done watching from the sidelines. He got down onto the floor with a grunt and drew his wand. 

"Harry, over here," he cooed. 

"Pads!" Harry exclaimed, as if he hadn't realized he had been there all along. Remus rolled his eyes as Harry struggled to get off of his lap, tumbling towards Sirius. 

"Look at this, Harry." Sirius pointed his wand at a block on the floor and transfigured it into a small blue bird. It glimmered with the artificial life of his magic, an embodiment and extension of Sirius. Like his magic, it was something he couldn't control--only delight in.

Harry squealed in delight as it began to hop along the floor, letting out a musical chirp. 

"S'a bird!" Harry announced, reaching out to try and grab it, giggling as he thumped forward and it hopped away. 

"Only use for transfiguration I've found yet," Sirius chuckled, transforming it back into block form.  

Harry blinked in surprise, and then, to Sirius' horror, he began to cry. 

"S' gone! S' gone!" 

Remus sighed as he gathered the wailing toddler into his arms. 

"This is why I use books," he said quickly, before hugging Harry close, who was squirming and still rubbing at his eyes. 

"Sorry!" Sirius cried, feeling terribly worried that he'd just gone and messed everything up. "I'll change it back!"

He was unable to, however, because of his own distress. Along with learning how to walk and use limited speech, Harry had begun to be much more perceptive of his surroundings. 

And, naturally, his surroundings caused him to throw tantrums. Every time it happened, Sirius panicked and was unable to do anything useful. 

"Hush, hush," Remus murmured, stroking Harry's hair and beginning to calm him. 

Remus was so much better at parenting that it physically hurt Sirius. He was just so doting and calm and sweet and patient. Everything Sirius could never be, he thought.

Still, they were both extremely focused on Harry, who was now sniffling instead of sobbing. They were lucky that he was so easy to placate. 

But they failed to notice that an owl had managed to fly through the chimney until it was perched right above them, looming with burning yellow eyes and shimmering feathers and long, coal talons. It was menacing and so suddenly there that Sirius couldn't help but jump in shock,

"Gah!" he exclaimed, jolting backwards.

That did it for Harry. He began to laugh. "S'a owl, Pads!" He apparently thought that Sirius' lack of observational skills were amusing.

The owl dropped the letter with an air of indifference, and then flew right back into the chimney. Sirius scowled as he picked it up, knowing there could only be one person it was from. It was a familiar envelope, not quite fancy but not at all cheap. It looked as though it was specifically tailored to seem humble.

"Dumbledore?" Remus asked, allowing Harry to crawl away and begin playing with his toys as if he had never cried at all.

Sirius tore it open and discarded the ridiculous envelope, allowing Remus to read over his shoulder. 

The thin loops of Dumbledore's handwriting did little to mask the irritation that clearly emanated off the page. In a nutshell, the Headmaster said that while he was grateful that Sirius' testimony helped arrest the Death Eaters, he had only wished that Sirius had not gone to court.

"I can't stay invisible forever," Sirius grumbled. "Honestly, not going would have turned more heads."

"Perhaps," Remus agreed. To Sirius' surprise, he shifted his position behind him to wrap his arms around his waist. He rested his chin on his shoulder. "You should be able to go out. It's me I'm worried about."

Sirius sighed, unsure if he was supposed to be elated that Remus was so close to him, or if he was worried about what he was saying.

"Maybe we should both go out," he replied quietly, putting his hands over Remus'. "Stick it to the man."

Remus stiffened slightly at that, but he didn't pull away. "I think that's a bad idea."

 

Sirius spun around, still in Remus' embrace, and faced him, having to look up at the taller man. He took a moment to note the freckles under his eyes and the way his amber eyes watched over short lashes and--

And he had to say something. He wasn't allowed to just stare at him like that.

"Wasn't it you who used to go out?" he inquired softly, wistfully, his hand moving to touch Remus' face before he could stop himself. "When did that stop?"

He knew when it had stopped, of course. It stopped when he began to become afraid. He tried to ignore that and the situation as his thumb stroked Remus' freshly-shaved face.

"I can't," Remus whispered in response, just barely moving into the touch.

Sirius threaded the other hand into Remus' curls. "You used to tell me to get out, and now I'm telling you." He hadn't realized his voice had gone so low. "At least let me take you somewhere muggle."

He didn't know what he was saying. He never did dates...

Remus smiled faintly, and moved his head further into Sirius' hand.

"Maybe. We can ask Frank to take Harry," he murmured.

"Brilliant," Sirius answered. His brain was going a little fuzzy--all he could care to think about was the fact that, out of nowhere, he and Remus were suddenly very, very close.

Harry made one of his giggle-snorts as he dropped a toy, and Sirius remembered himself. He retracted his hands quickly, and they sunk back to his sides. He was left inches away, still meeting his gaze.

"Why are we this close, Remus?" 

"You started it. Do you mind?"

"No. I quite like it."

"Then that's why."

They both smiled, and it took Sirius a moment to realize that Remus was about to kiss him. He let it happen, leaning in a little. His hands stayed by his side. He felt like a teenager--not at all like a jaded twenty-two year old--when his heart flipped and his pulse raced. 

It was a quick kiss. Remus' chapped lips latched onto his own for a moment, half-smiling, and it was warm, soft, familiar. 

It was very much like Remus, and it was wonderful. 

When they broke away, it was far too soon, but also just right. 

"Why?" Sirius felt the question escape his lips, unbidden.

"Why not?"

"Because you've seemed to have waited two weeks past the appropriate time to do that."

Remus smirked and kissed his cheek, lingering longer there than he had on his lips. It was rather cruel.

"I didn't realize there was a time limit," he replied, "or that things had to change. Then again, maybe you're used to going faster."

"That's probably true," Sirius muttered, crossing his arms. "I was very fast in school, if you'll remember."

"I remember," Remus answered, somewhat sadly, as he turned around.

Harry was still on the floor, looking slightly perplexed and perhaps indignant from being ignored for so long.

"Sheep," he said determinedly, pointing at the book. 

"Oh, so _now_ you want to read," Remus chuckled, getting back onto the floor. 

Sirius sighed, feeling probably more shocked than he should have. 

"I'll owl Frank about watching Harry," he said at last. "And then we can go out."

Remus chuckled as Harry crawled back into his lap, holding the book. 

"Tell him it's a proper date night this time," Remus called at him. "He'll be delighted."

"There's a lot more we should be telling him, too..."

* * *

Frank was thankfully off work when Sirius stepped through the floo. He looked a little tired, and was in the middle of cooking something while Neville babbled incoherently and scribbled on a piece of parchment. The room was a little dim, lit by Alice's old lemongrass scented candles.

"Has Nev said anything yet?" Sirius asked in way of greeting. 

Frank jump and spun on his heel, his wand raised in the air, shaking a little. His hand lowered when he realized it was Sirius. 

"Merlin, I didn't even hear the floo," he muttered, setting down his wand. "And, no, he's still quiet. Pretty good at drawing, though."

Sirius chuckled and sat down on one of the stools next to the counter, which was atrociously chartreuse-yellow and lined with shiny steel. It was also Alice's choice, as Frank had told him. 

"Tough day?" he asked, noticing Frank's hand was still shaking. He knew what it was like to live in a house haunted with old memories.

"Yes," he answered. "But I'm fine, really. Need anything? I was just at your house yesterday, you know."

Sirius grinned. "Prefer if you didn't come over, actually," he admitted, though he knew the man probably could use an evening away. "Remus and I were thinking of having a, er... a proper 'date night'. Tonight or tomorrow. Thought you might watch Harry."

Frank's eyebrows shot up, but he grinned.

"So, now you're calling them date nights? Finally?" He sounded relieved. 

"First date, actually," Sirius answered, suddenly realizing he wanted to share with his friend. "Took us a while, didn't it?"

Frank chuckled and resumed stirring what he had been when Sirius intruded.

"It was a tough first year. We're all moving on," he said. "I'm sure Remus will tell me all about it. He'll natter on about you whenever you're gone, you know."

"Really?" Sirius inquired, genuinely curious. "What does he say about me?"

Frank laughed again and set down his spoon. "You'll have to ask him on your date." He leaned against the counter and faced Sirius, an intent look on his face.

Sirius was made uneasy by that look. "I guess I'll go tell him we're good to go, then," he murmured, shifting uncomfortably. He was about to get off the stool when Frank interrupted him. 

"I think I figured it out, you know," Frank said quietly. "This is the first time I'm watching Harry not on a full moon."

Sirius stiffened, but tried to seem composed. 

"How can you be sure?"

Frank sighed. "I'm an auror, Sirius. After last month, I was suspicious, so I checked the dates on a lunar calendar. It lines up." His expression was unreadable, and he no longer seemed like the awkward, friendly person he usually was.

This was his auror side.

"You won't tell anyone?" Sirius asked catuiuously. 

Frank smiled slyly, an expression that seemed new on his face.

"Legally, I don't have to go to the registry until I've gotten a direct confession, or I've seen a transformation," he replied, pushing himself off the counter. "So, our little secret."

Sirius couldn't help but smile, all the tension releasing from him as he wrapped Frank in a hug. 

"You're a gem!" he cried. "You really don't mind?"

"Of course not. He's Remus." 

"Thank you for understanding, mate."

* * *

Sirius ended up dragging Remus out to a posh muggle restaurant--black-suited waiters, maroon tablecloths, calligraphy on the menus--for dinner the next day. He assured him that he could afford it, since the Black family fortune was being transferred to his name.

Neither of them had ever been on many dates. In Hogwarts, Sirius had gone to Hogsmeade with a few other boys, and he didn't know if Remus did. After school, they had been a bit busy with the war to pursue anyone. 

And, they had been living together for most of that time, Sirius noted in retrospect. He didn't remember having much desire to date then, anyway. 

It felt very natural, sitting down with Remus and treating it like a date. He didn't mind the funny glances from the muggles (he didn't know what muggles wore to nice places--at least he wasn't in robes!) and focused solely on his date. The salad was nothing more than something for his mouth to crunch on and the sleek decorations just distractions for his eyes to skate over as he despaired over what he was supposed to say without being terribly awkward.

When dinner was over, they hadn't really touched on anything serious. The conversation had drifted from Harry to where they would travel next to the Ministry. Sirius didn't know how to do "date talk"--flirting just felt wrong, and he honestly didn't know how to change what he was doing to make it more like a _relationship_.

Maybe that was why nothing had changed after that first confession. It was just how he and his Moony were. They couldn't change that. They had already been living together, taking care of each other, often sharing the same bed... How much could change? 

 _Sex._ Sex could definitely change. The only thing that Sirius really, truly associated with relationships was sex. It was what he was used to, but that wasn't what Remus wanted, and it wasn't how he really imagined him and Remus working.

Maybe that was why he had been so uneasy after that confession. When Remus said he loved him, he wasn't sure what he wanted from that. He wasn't sure he wanted to muck up what they had by trying to throw sex into the mix.

Sirius wasn't the most romantic man on earth. He was more accustomed to one night stands than actual dating. He wanted to be romantic, he wanted to have this with Remus, he just didn't know how to do it correctly.

And that was probably why he thought it was unfair.

They went for a quick walk when they saw it was mostly quiet. The sun had gone down and the sky was periwinkle and grey, and it was quickly darkening. Soon, only the street lamps would light the sidewalk when the shop lights all flickered out.

There was a definitive space between them where the air was cold and thick with promise. Sirius fancied doing something couple-y and holding his hand, but he didn't quite have the nerve.

It was Remus (again) who took the initiative by twining their fingers. Sirius felt his own pace quicken, and he wondered why he had never realized how smooth Remus' palms were, or just how hairy he really was, or how pleasant it could possibly feel.

"Lovely evening," Sirius said quickly. What else was he supposed to say when his head was spinning with soppy thoughts about  _hand holding?_

Remus, who had always been so sure of himself, just laughed and squeezed his hand. 

"It really is. Thanks for doing this."

Sirius might have choked, but he did his best to hide it. 

"You're thanking _me?_ " he asked. "Thank you for agreeing to this." He felt uncomfortable as he said it. 

Remus gave him a surprised glance. "This is not something you would normally do," he replied quietly, "and it clearly makes you uncomfortable."

Sirius stopped walking and looked at Remus. His face was obscured from the shadows, but the muggle florescent light behind him was too bright. 

"Isn't this what people in relationships do?" he asked. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Remus shrugged innocently. "I'm not exactly well versed in that area."

Sirius tilted his head. "You seem to be a romantic to me."

"There's hardly any evidence of that," Remus murmured, tugging on his hand and resuming the walk. 

"Well, have you been with anyone before?" Sirius asked, genuinely interested. 

Remus shrugged again and watched his feet as he walked. "Once. They weren't quite for me, though. Very distant. Not very familiar."

The tone of his voice told Sirius to drop it and not ask questions about them.

"Well, what do you want?" he asked. "I don't know how long you've been interested, Moons, but surely you've had expectations."

Remus sighed, and Sirius was worried for a moment that his speculations were correct. What Remus wanted, he couldn't give. 

"I like what we have," he confessed, looking slightly embarrassed. "I like living with you, I like being close to you, I like having you around to talk to. I'm just glad you know how I feel now."  

Sirius was quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond. 

"That's it?" he asked. "That can't be it."

"That's it," Remus answered. "And, sleeping with you on just more than full moons. And getting to say I love you." He laughed and looked over at him with glittering eyes. "It feels great not to have it bottled up anymore. I had to keep that in for years--I love you."

Sirius felt a little surprised, but also strangely relieved. 

"I love you, too," he said, with more certainty this time. "But I want to be able to show it. How can I show it?"

"You're doing it right now!" Remus exclaimed, sounding absolutely giddy. "You do it whenever you try. Whenever you're there for me. The fact that you're doing this, right now, says that you love me."

Sirius was grateful Remus was so much more confident than he was. He was just confused now. 

"Well, you're welcome?" he said hesitantly, laughing as well. "I guess I was just expecting thinhs to change."

"Do you want them to?" Remus inquired, his voice light. 

Sirius thought about it for a moment. 

"They really don't need to, do they?" he mused. "We're happy the way we are now. What else is there? Shagging?" 

He hadn't meant to say the last bit, and somehow he knew it was a mistake.

Remus squeezed his hand and let go, stopping to stand by a bench.

"Right," he murmured. "That's probably something we should discuss."

Sirius blinked in surprise and missed the warmth of Remus' hand. He wasn't expecting to have a discussion about it. 

"What is it? Do you want to talk here? Or should we go home?" 

"Home. Let's apparate."

One sickening lurch and a loud _crack_ later, they were standing in their own living room. The floor was littered with toys, and it felt empty knowing that Harry was gone. 

Remus sat down and Sirius did as well, not knowing what to expect. At all. 

"Well?" 

Remus shifted and pulled his legs up onto the sofa. "I didn't really want to tell you this, because I thought it would... well, I thought you would change your mind about me," he confessed quietly. "I mean, I've known for years now, and our other friends knew, but I--"

"Come on with it, Moony," Sirius pleaded, far past perplexed. "You can tell me anything."

Remus sighed and stared at the floor. 

"I'm asexual," he said quickly, looking away. "And I know that you've always been very sexual, and that this could be an issue--"

"Slow down!" Sirius interrupted again. "Remus, I don't even know what that _is_. Is it a problem?"

Remus turned back to look at him. For a second, he looked like a very surprised goldfish, but he composed himself. 

"It's not exactly a problem," he said, "not for me at least, not anymore. It just means that I'm not sexually attracted to people."

Sirius frowned. "And you thought this would make me... What? Not want you?"

Remus bit his lip. "Well, yes," he said. "It means that I don't want to have sex with you. Or anyone."

Sirius wasn't exactly used to hearing those words, but they were meaningless when he considered the fact that he had already guessed as much (on some level or another). But it was still confusing. 

"You can love me but not want to have sex?" He didn't mean to sound so harsh, and he flinched as he said it. "Of course, that's fine, but... how does it work?"

"It just does," Remus answered. "I don't like sex." In his most typical fashion, he sounded rather sure of himself.

Sirius put an arm around him comfortingly, feeling assured as he snuggled up to the touch. 

"I can cope," he said. "It's been some time for me, anyway. I don't miss it that much." He chuckled to himself. "Hell, maybe I can handle a relationship even better if it doesn't include the complications of sex."

Remus was smiling very brightly. "That was a better reaction than I expected."

Sirius put his head on Remus' shoulder. "Well, we already established that I love you. I'm not backing out of that yet."

"Glad you're not," Remus murmured. "I would have taken it all back if you did, you know."

"No need," Sirius answered quickly. Then, pensively, he added, "When did you find out?"

Remus didn't need a moment to answer. 

"Year after we graduated. I already had an inkling, so I decided to try it out with some good looking people. Didn't do anything for me." He was completely sure as he said it, and Sirius didn't want to question it.

"Do I know these people?" he inquired. "How good looking is _good looking_?"

"Muggles. And I can tell who's good looking or not, so don't even ask," Remus answered, apparently enough at ease to banter. "You, for example, are a marvelous specimen."

"But you won't have anything to do with my specimen?" Sirius teased. 

"Not interested. Still love you, though."

"I'm flattered, Moony," he purred. He nestled in closer to him, enjoying his warmth. He was grateful at how well things had turned out. 

He was lucky that Remus made everything easy. It was probably more than he deserved. 

Being close to him made him feel as happy as it usually did, and he was looking forward to having that from then on. Even if it didn't include sex. 

"May I kiss you?" Remus asked suddenly. 

"Shouldn't I be asking you?"

"Oh, quiet, Pads."

The kiss was longer and more intimate than the last. It tasted like wine and spice, and was so sweet that it was more _Remus_ than anything he has ever experienced before. 

It was better than any other kiss he'd had before, too. It actually meant something. 

When they pulled away, he was happy to see that Remus looked utterly starstruck. 

"When I decided to live with you and help with Harry," he began, his voice hushed, "I thought that was the best I could have with you. I was terribly happy. But I think I might like this better."

"I definitely do," Sirius said, pulling him closer again. "I'm much happier now."

Remus settled his head on his chest. 

"I know."

He always knew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, that took us a while to get here. Remember when I said I wanted to keep it short? :/  
> Anyway, I think I've gone and done it again, creating another asexual character (Remus). Not sorry. I wasn't intending it, but it kind of fell into place and it makes sense here.


	10. In Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "See the pumpkins, Harry?" Remus asked, pointing at one of the houses, which was dressed in subtle Halloween spirit. Several large, red, and warty pumpkins were resting lopsidedly on the frosted lawn, and fake gauzy spiderwebs were draped over the windows. "They're for Halloween!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skipping ahead another year. Most of the big changes have already happened, so now Harry's 3, and Sirius and Remus have a more comfortable, established relationship. Sorry I skipped over the rest. It was beginning to feel like I was stuck in a rut in that time period. Things are moving faster now.

The bigger he got, the noisier Harry was. Once he learned how to talk, he _talked_. And he didn't want to be left out of anything now that he could walk. He was needy, he was noisy, and Sirius couldn't believe he actually found it fun. 

Well, maybe it wasn't fun getting woken up at the crack of dawn, but Harry was still a gem. 

"Out of bed!" Harry crowed, stomping into the room, still clad in his favorite green pajamas. "Out!"

"Harry," Sirius grumbled, not bothering to move. The sun was hardly up, and the room was cold, and he wanted to pull his warm red blanket over his head and hide from the day's responsibilities.

Remus sat up, to Sirius' great disappointment, and left a cold spot behind him. The stale, chilled air somehow managed to creep over to Sirius' side. He let out a groan and burrowed deeper as his partner dealt with the child. Only his eyes poked out so he could watch the interaction.

"Yes, Harry," Remus said, his voice still hoarse with sleep. "What is it?"

"M'cold, Moony," Harry replied, stuffing his hands in his armpits. 

"Then get in," Sirius answered gruffly, patting the spot between them. He didn't think of it as being a push-over, even if it was the third night that week he had let him do it. As Remus had said, it was essential that young children received physical contact. 

Harry immediately clambered in, snuggling between the two of them and pulling the blanket up to cover himself like the blanket hog he was. It was remarkable how much blanket such a tiny human could use.

"Why's it cold?" he asked once he was settled. 

Sirius suppressed a groan, knowing he wouldn't be getting back to sleep. 

"Because it's October," he answered, burying his head into the pillow. 

"What's that?"

"The start of fall," Remus answered, sounding amuse. 

Sirius woke up a little more when he realized that it was _October_ , and that it wasn't just fall.  _He_ was not so amused.

"What day is it?" he demanded, pushing himself up frantically. His attention was drawn to the reality of the day, the location--what had happened just two years prior in this same cottage.

"'tober?" Harry suggested innocently, sitting up as well. 

Remus rolled over. "No, Harry," he murmured. "And, it's the..." He trailed off, apparently realizing the significant date.

Sirius sighed and closed his eyes, knowing he couldn't just avoid the day. He would have to get up and face it. 

Two years since James and Lily died. Two years since he took Harry in. Two years since Remus had come home. One year since he and Remus finally figured everything out.

"Well, Harry, do you want to get up? I can make a fire," Sirius suggested, trying to sound chipper. 

Harry nodded, though Sirius wasn't quite sure he knew what that meant. He crawled over Remus, who just grunted, to get out of the bed. 

Sirius planted a quick kiss on his stubbled cheek in a way of _good morning_ , and then he accompanied Harry to the living room. 

He flicked his wand at the fireplace, and it erupted into flickering, orange flames. That never failed to make Harry squeal in delight. He dropped onto the floor and began rocking on his heels, grinning at the fire. 

Sirius chuckled and got onto the floor as well, grunting as he settled onto the cool, coarse carpet. Harry barely paid any mind, continuing to rock back and forth and look adorably happy. Oblivious.

He wondered if he needed to say anything to Harry about James and Lily.

He and Remus had mentioned them before, but it was only quick in reference. They wanted to pay them their respects, but they didn't want Harry to start believing in parents he would never get to meet.

Sirius had gotten better at thinking about things like that. He no longer expected to find the two of them sitting in the living room, and he no longer thought of himself as a guest in their house. 

He still didn't quite think of Harry as his son, though. It wasn't quite right. They didn't let Harry refer to them as his fathers. 

"Is Moony sleepy?" Harry asked, still watching the fire. He wasn't old enough to understand, but he knew there were times when Moony was too tired or sick to be there. 

"Maybe," Sirius answered tentatively. "He's fine, though."

Harry just nodded and fiddled with his tiny toes. "M'hungry," he declared, looking up at Sirius. He rubbed at sleep-crusted eyes and yawned, looking pleading and sweet and terribly, typically  _Harry._

Sirius decided that it wasn't his job to brood over James and Lily today, and it wasn't his job to mope for himself. It was his duty to keep Harry happy, to keep him normal and sweet and cheery and oblivious on a day that he refused to taint with remiss and sadness. 

"Pancakes?" he suggested.

(Harry almost always wanted pancakes, though they usually convinced him to settle for toast. As with all things, Remus knew plenty about nutrition. And he would not allow Harry to live off of pancakes, even if he wanted to.) 

"Yes please!" Harry squeaked, jumping to his feet. He was already running to the kitchen, which was half-cluttered with last night's dishes. 

Sirius got up and padded into the kitchen, wincing as his feet hit the cold tile floor. Harry was jumping up and down, singing about pancakes. 

"Pan-cake, pan-cake, I like pancakes, Padfoot makes me pancakes--"

"Water first," Sirius ordered, pouring them both a glass. 

Then, Harry helped him prepare the batter, and Remus was up not much later. He looked tired, and probably just as weary from the thought of the day to come. 

Last Halloween had been hard, despite all the progress they'd both made. Sirius had ended up transforming into his dog form to get away, which freaked Harry out. He seemed to have forgotten about the incident. 

There were many things Sirius wasn't ready to explain to Harry. Like being an animagus, or the fact his real parents were dead, or why they couldn't visit the neighbors. 

Still, that wouldn't stop them from walking across the village to visit the Potters' grave that day. 

"Do you want to go for a walk today, Harry?" Sirius asked as they were cleaning up. 

"Yes," Harry answered, wiping a syrup-smeared hand all over his face. 

Remus sighed and went to get a damp washcloth. "Will you let me clean you up?" he asked, beginning to dab it at Harry's face. 

"No!" he cried, snatching the towel and pressing it to his face. He wiped it dramatically across his lips, and then threw it down. "See? Clean."

"We don't throw things," Remus chided him, though when he turned his back, he was smiling. It was a lovely smile--chapped lips and morning mouth aside.

"Well, I'll get dressed," Sirius announced. 

He walked away listening to Harry chattering about mittens and hats, knowing that this visit to the cemetery would be easier than the last. 

Living in Godric's Hollow wasn't a problem at all anymore, though it helped that Remus had completely redecorated and redesigned the entire thing. 

They had considered leaving, but Dumbledore had been adamantly against that, promising he could just give them more privacy charms. That wasn't the problem, though. 

The Headmaster had begun to dislike whenever they were gone abroad too long, too, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He didn't have as much power over them as he claimed to. 

Still, as much as Sirius enjoyed it, they didn't visit the wizarding world often. When they did, Harry stayed with the Longbottoms, and they didn't mention Harry to anyone. They ignored old acquaintances (the ones that hadn't been lost in the War), and generally only did errands. 

They made friends and had fun out of the country and in muggle areas.

Remus seemed to believe whatever Dumbledore threw at them, though it was mostly out of fear. Sirius didn't as much, but he wasn't going to argue with him, or Dumbledore.

Besides, it wasn't terrible. They had the Longbottoms, and their lives weren't terrible.

Things were good.

* * *

Harry clutched Remus' hand as they walked to the cemetery. They had a large red hat to cover his head and scar completely, so the main thing that would give him away was his green eyes. And his dark skin, of course, which wasn't entirely common in Godric's Hollow, but they weren't about to force him to hide that. 

He did have on his mittens, however, and a grey wool coat that he practically insisted on wearing everywhere. It was either the coat or the pajamas with him. 

Sirius followed behind. He had been half tempted to go as a dog--which Harry had begun to call Snuffles--but decided it was best not to. 

"See the pumpkins, Harry?" Remus asked, pointing at one of the houses, which was dressed in subtle Halloween spirit. Several large, red, and warty pumpkins were resting lopsidedly on the frosted lawn, and fake gauzy spiderwebs were draped over the windows. "They're for Halloween!"

"We have those!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, and he let go of Remus' hand to skip alongside them. "Pumpkins! Pumpkins!" 

"And we have pumpkin juice," Sirius added, resisting the urge to take Harry's hand and keep him close. They had learned it was best that only one of them hold Harry's hand, and then strangers were more likely to think they were just friends. There were very few places where male couples were accepted.

Which was yet another sad, stupid reason to listen to Dumbledore. 

"Yum," Harry giggled and swung his mittened hands at his sides.

"Do you know what else is on Halloween?" Remus asked Harry, his voice gone soft.

Death was the first thing that popped into Sirius' head, but that was hardly appropriate. 

"I dunno," Harry answered, taking Remus' hand again.

"Muggles dress up like monsters and get candy," Remus explained, his lips splitting into a grin. He was likely filled with cheerful memories of Hogwarts Halloweens. 

"Yum," Harry repeated. "Can we do that?"

"Maybe next year," said Sirius, remembering how much he had loved Halloween once he had gone to school. He wanted Harry to have that experience early on. "We're visiting James and Lily today, actually."

"All day?" Harry demanded. "And where _are_ they?" He sounded so petulant, it might have been adorable under other circumstances.

Sirius wasn't sure he wanted to be the one to say, "They're not here, darling. They died." So, he kept quiet.

Remus took it in stride, though, and took another course of action. "Right there," Remus said, pointing to the statue by the cemetery. "You're there, too."

Harry let go of his hand and ambled up to it. "Not real," he murmured, looking confused. 

"No," Sirius lamented, crouching down next to him. "They're gone now. But we can see them like this. Why don't we go to their stones, and you can say something to them?" 

"Yeah," Harry murmured, suddenly much less bubbly. 

Sirius felt the same way. 

The Potters' headstone was covered in fallen red and orange leaves, which Remus wiped away, leaving a wet trail behind as his hand melted the frost with the motion.

"Can you try and read that?" Remus asked. They had been practicing their alphabet.

"James and Lily." Harry said it slowly, his face all scrunched up. "That's them! You always talk 'bout James and Lily. Who're they?"

Remus and Sirius both got onto the ground, and Harry plopped down, too. The adults shared a look, and Remus was the one to explain. 

"They made you, Harry," he said slowly. "But they had to leave. They loved you, though."

"They gave you to us. On Halloween," Sirius added, giving his best smile. He wanted it to be a day of celebration, not sadness.

"Do I say...thank you?" Harry asked, staring at the stone. "I don't--I don't think they can hear me." He stuttered over his words, whicj wasn't entirely unusual, but it made Sirius twinge inexplicably. 

"I hear they can on Halloween," Remus said helpfully. 

"Okay." Harry put his hands on the stone. "Thank you for giving me Pads and Moony. I love them very much."

Sirius smiled and and said his own silent prayer. 

_Thank you for giving me Harry. I love him very much. And Remus, I suppose. He was a bit your fault, too._

Behind them, someone cleared their throat. 

"Gentlemen. I was hoping to find you there."

Sirius spun around and saw a familiar silver-bearded man. He was smiling at them coldly, his eyes glittering eerily from behind his half-moon glasses. 

"Dumbledore. What a surprise." Sirius kept his voice cool. 

"Don't you have a school to run today?" Remus asked. He may have agreed with the Headmaster's rules, but the man made him just as uncomfortable as he did Sirius. 

"I thought it was worth a visit," Dumbledore replied, narrowing his eyes at the men, but sweeping his gaze over to the boy. "And, hello. Isn't this Harry Potter?" 

Remus raised an eyebrow and gave the pre-planned response they were supposed to give anyone who asked.

"Oh, it is. We're taking him out for a day, get him away from his family. Muggles."

Harry frowned at that, but he had been taught the drill. He knew to keep secrets with strangers. He moved closer to Remus as Dumbledore smiled in approval and knelt down. 

"Very good," he said, reaching a hand out. "I don't think you remember me, Harry. I'm Professor Dumbledore."

Harry blinked and didn't move. "Hello." Dumbledore seemed to be putting him off.

Sirius wasn't sure if he was minutely satisfied that Harry found the man perturbed him, or if he was pissed that someone was perturbing Harry. 

"You've grown, you know. Did they tell you about your parents yet?" The old man pointed to the stone and smiled sadly. "They died to save you."

Sirius cringed as Harry frowned, and Remus pulled him in. Dumbledore was turning this into a sad day, and that pissed Sirius off. That was not part of the plan.

"It's a bit early to say that, don't you think?" he growled. 

Dumbledore ignored him. "Harry, do you know who your father is?" His eyes flickered challengingly at Remus and Sirius. 

If Harry said either of them--which he wouldn't--the Headmaster would not be pleased. 

"Mmmm." Harry frowned. "Frank is Nev's father," he said slowly. "Right, Moony?"

"That's right, Harry," Moony whispered, his amber eyes stretched wide in horrid anticipation.

"And James is _your_ father," Dumbledore explained cooly. He was still smiling that sickeningly fake smile.

And then, Harry asked what they had been dreading.

"Why isn't he here?"

Sirius moved past Dumbledore and picked Harry up, looking him straight in the eye. 

"He's gone," he said again, and as much as he hated the words. As much as he didn't want Harry to think of it that way.

"Okay," Harry answered. He probably didn't care since he didn't know the man, which was relieving. He threw his arms around Sirius's shoulder and rested his little head in the crook of his neck. "I'm tired now," he murmured, unable to grab proper purchase with his mitten-clad fingers. 

Remus got up and ignored Dumbledore's irked face. "Tired, Harry?" he asked teasingly. " not even noon."

"Mmmmmph," murmured Harry, face still nestled into Sirius' neck. 

Sirius smirked and turned to face the Headmaster.

"Will that be all, sir?"

 _Cordial_. He made sure his voice was dripping with respect. 

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, but he still smiled widely. It was a farce, of course. Any old man whose teeth were so glitteringly white was lying.

"Not entirely, my friends," he said. "I was going to propose that you meet with the Weasley's at some point. Very charming people. I'm sure you remember."

Sirius looked at Remus, who shrugged. 

"Lots of kids," he commented. "Which could be good."

"Kids?" Harry exclaimed, his head popping up. 

"Yes, Harry," said the old professor. "One your age, too."

Harry bounced a little in Sirius' arms. He was rather shy with adults, but he loved playing with other children. Of course he would want to meet the Weasley's. 

"How _low_ would we have to lie with them?" Sirius asked, his voice soaked in irony. 

Dumbledore sighed. "They're part of the Order." He paused for effect and looked at them with intent. "Whatever you say will be safe with them, but some things are best left unsaid."

Sirius caught his meaning. The werewolf thing, the parenting thing, the gay thing--all off limits. Everything about them. Off limits.

He could have screamed if not for the sweet little boy in his arms. His head was back to resting against Sirius, and his breath was coming in dramatic little huffs. He felt heavy, as though he were about to fall asleep. 

"Well, thank you," Remus said, stepping in next to Sirius. "But I think we should start walking home now. Harry's a little drained."

Dumbledore bowed his head. "Of course. I will leave you be. Good luck, gentlemen." 

Then, he was gone with a _snap_ , which startled poor little Harry. 

"Magic?" he asked, staring over at the spot where the old man had been. 

"Magic," Sirius confirmed. 

Harry giggled. "I'll do magic someday!" he proclaimed.

"I'm sure you will, Harry," Remus answered. 

They began walking back to Godric's Hollow, which to the rest of the world, looked as though it were nothing but a pile of rubble. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the positive feedback! I'm amazed at how much you all like this story. Don't forget to comment/kudos and all that! It keeps me going :)


	11. The Weasley's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had somehow managed to splatter paint all over the walls of his nursery in his first bout of accidental magic. It was, Sirius thought, a cacophony of colors--loud, obnoxious splatters of red and green like Christmas and singing streaks of blue and yellow. His head spun with the brightness and the presence of it all. They had never really let much color into their little cottage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some oblivious homophobia

Autumn was gone too fast, and it was already Jamuary. Remus had finally invited the Weasley's over for dinner--what were they thinking?--and they were preparing the house. 

Well, they would have been preparing if they weren't cleaning. 

Harry had somehow managed to splatter paint all over the walls of his nursery in his first bout of accidental magic. It was, Sirius thought, a _cacophony_ of colors--loud, obnoxious splatters of red and green like Christmas and singing streaks of blue and yellow. His head spun with the brightness and the presence of it all. They had never really let much color into their little cottage.

The paint was all of Harry's own conjuring, too. And they thought they were smart when they only gave him crayons. 

"Magic! I did magic!" Harry squealed. He ran up to the wall--the one that was mostly red and blue--and pressed his hands and face up to it. "Mine," he hummed. Luckily, no paint stuck to him. It was apparently dry.

"Look at you," Sirius replied, unable to be angry about it. "That's very pretty magic!"

Harry, who was still clinging to the wall happily, smiled. "I know."

Remus, who was determined not to look at it in order to stay calm, was still in their own bedroom. It was late in the morning, and the sunlight had already snuck in to wake him up. He probably would have slept in of he wasn't already worried about their guests arriving later. 

"Don't encourage him to become an artist now," he called warningly. "Bad profession."

"He can do all the art he wants," Sirius called back in protest. "And at least it's not the sitting room!"

He could hear Remus' exasperated groan from there, and couldn't suppress his smirk. 

"Just clean up the best you can, and then come help me start preparing!"

Sirus got out his wand and tried to clean it, but it wouldn't do anything. None of the cleaning charms he knew--and he knew _many_ , between living in a boys' dorm to raising a toddler--would do anything. 

"What are you doing, Padfoot?" Harry asked eventually, watching curiously. 

"Fixing the walls," Sirius grunted, hurling another sparking white charm at the wall. 

That simply would not do, of course. 

"No!" Harry wailed, latching onto his leg. "I made it, don't get rid of it! It's _mine_!" 

Sirius startled and dropped his wand. "But Moony won't like it," he said as he knelt down to pick it up. He looked Harry in the eye. "We have guests. We should clean it up."

Harry shook his head insistently. "Please don't get rid of it," he pleased. "My magic put it there."

Sirius sighed and tucked his wand into his pocket. He didn't even know how he was supposed to clean it up anyhow. He picked Harry up. 

"Then let's at least help Moony get ready for dinner, alright?"

"Thank you," Harry replied, sticking his hands into Sirius' long hair. "It's too early for dinner, though."

"It's a big dinner." He winced as Harry tugged on a sensitive strand. "And don't pull!"

"Sorry!" Harry giggled.

"Yeah, right."

* * *

The Weasley's came one by one through the floo, but once they were all there, the house erupted into complete chaos. Children were immediately squabbling and scrambling over their tidied living room, and they were louder and more chaotic than all the colors in Harry's room. 

"Sirius! How lovely to see you!" Arthur shouted above the chattering of his children, which were all bombarding poor Harry with greetings. He took Sirius by the arm and led him away from the bedlam. 

"It's been a while, Arthur," Sirius replied, rubbing at his ear. "Frank's mentioned you a bit, I think."

The other man grinned. "Good old Frank. I heard about Alice... It must be hard for him; she's not getting any better..." He trailed off with a frown and then shook it off. "But let's not dwell on that. Dumbledore tells me you've fully taken on responsibility as Harry's godfather!"

Sirius swallowed and nodded, looking around Arthur to see Harry's beet-red face as a boy his size with carrot-red hair talked at him excitedly. The two twins, who were a full head and a half taller than Harry and uncannily identical, were trying to compete for attention. The two eldest--tall and lanky and specked with puberty's first pockmarks--were hanging back, and the girl was being held by Molly. 

"That I have. Kids are hard." He laughed wryly and looked away as Molly herded them all away with fluttering hands to give Harry some space. "But Remus helps. I don't know where I'd be without him."

Arthur's wiry, red eyebrows shot up as he smiled. "Ah, yes, you two always were friends, weren't you? Is he visiting tonight, perchance?"

Sirius winced at the word "visiting."

"Actually, he--"

"Sirius, why in Merlin's name did you add so much spice?" Remus joshed from the kitchen, interrupting. 

Sirius turned as red as Harry had been and darted away as fast as he could, not ready to confront that question yet. He would wait until after dinner to maintain the evenings' pleasantries.

It turned out that there was enough food for a proper feast. Both Sirius and Remus had made things (curried lamb with cauliflower and flatbread, and herbed couscous, respectively), and Molly Weasley had brought her own (roasted potatoes, beef stew, and savory pumpkin tarts). 

"Not that my boys are picky eaters," she assured him, "but I like to cook my own."

It was a good thing, too, because the twins (Fred and George) and Harry were the only ones who bothered with the curry. And the former had done it as a dare. 

"How do you eat that stuff?" The youngest boy, Ronald, demanded. He screwed his face into a grimace as he watched Harry take a big bite out of naan soaked in curry sauce.

"It's good!" Harry replied through a choking mouthful. "My Padfoot made it."

Things were going smoothly, though. The Weasley's were all wonderfully friendly, and the oldest two, Bill and Charlie, were great conversationalists. Sirius was having fun chatting with them about school while Remus cordially spoke with the parents. 

Eventually, the younger children got bored and went out to play on the newly-installed tire swing. The eldest of the youngest (Percy, he thought) went to go watch them and "make sure they didn't hurt themselves." He couldn't have been more than nine years old, and he was such a stickler already. 

Even though Bill and Charlie were still present, Sirius knew that this was when the hard questions would come out.

"So, Remus," Arthur asked jovially, "what have you been doing for work? Found a nice place to stay, I assume?"

Remus nearly choked on his wine, and Sirius wanted to jump in and save him. Of course, Remus couldn't work; he was a werewolf. And of course, Remus found a very nice place to stay with Sirius; they were in love. Neither were good conversation topics.

"Actually, it's easier I stay here and help with Harry and Sirius. Hard time to get a job, really." He skirted around the truth, but as always, he was strong in his answer. 

Arthur bit his lip, flat teeth poking out and glimmering. "Really? I'm sure I could talk to someone--"

Molly cleared her throat and interrupted. "You stay here, Remus? Isn't that a bit crowded?" Her brow was furrowed in a motherly way, either filled with concern or suspicion.

Sirius tensed and busied himself with finishing off his own glass of wine. Would Remus answer? It was up to him, really...

"Not really," said Remus casually. "We do the chores together, help each other out." He reached his hand across the table and took Sirius' without adding anything. Not even a euphemism. 

On the inside, Sirius panicked, but he decided that this was how it would go. 

He winked at Remus. "That's right, love."

Both of the boys at the table blushed deeply, and Molly and Arthur both gaped for a moment. 

"Oh, dear," Molly breathed, and all at once the concerned and homophobic floodgates were released. "I think I see... But, dears, you don't mean you're... I mean, you _do_ know it doesn't have to be that way! It's hardly a forced circumstance, there are plenty of lovely young ladies who would--"

Arthur put a hand on her shoulder. "Now, Molly. It _does_ happen. It's quite common in non-magical communities. Many muggles are beginning to choose the same lifestyle. We can't judge who they want to be with." He spoke as if he actually knew what he was saying. As if he would know if they were _choosing_.

Sirius was biting his tongue so he didn't scold them for their bullshit, and Remus was clenching his hand very tightly, his knuckles gone white.

"But what about Harry?" Molly asked breathlessly. "No mother, no women... What if he turns out the same way?"

"It doesn't work that way," Sirius muttered through clenched teeth. Now she was judging his parenting?

"Oh, no, Molly, of course he has a mother figure. Which one of you is the woman in the relationship?" Arthur inquired. He tilted his head in an idiotic, curious expression.

They sounded so good-natured, so friendly, so ignorant, Sirius thought he was going to explode. 

"If I may excuse myself to do the dishes," he gritted, standing up. 

As he left, Arthur made a humming sound. 

"Interesting. I would have expected it to be you, Remus."

And then Remus--his darling Moony--properly lost it. 

"We are _both_ men!" he shouted. 

At that point, Sirius hoped they would never have to see the Weasley's again. No matter what wonderful, ideal Order members Dumbledore claimed they were, it was clear that this would not work out.

But it would be up to Harry. If Harry liked the Weasley children, he would have to learn how to cope.

He shuddered as he ran his hands under the warm water, scrubbing away the filth on the plates. 

* * *

That night, Harry was very easy to put to bed. The Weasley's didn't leave until long after the sun had gone down, and their own poor child was properly peppered out. 

"Did you have a fun day?" a jaded, exhausted looking Moony asked, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. They had just finished reading him a bedtime story, and they were all exhausted.

"Nnnmmph." Harry flopped his head onto the pillow. "Too noisy."

Sirius chuckled and pulled Harry's blanket up to cover him. "But you're noisy, too, little lion!"

"Nooooo." Harry shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "Not as noisy as Ron. I don't think I like him."

Sirius tried to hide his relief. "You sure? I bet he'll be in Gryffindor with you at Hogwarts."

Harry ignored that statement and looked to his other father-figure. "Moony, do they have to come again? All of them?" He sounded whiny, petulant. 

Sirius had asked Remus the exact same question, in the exact same tone, only five minutes ago. 

"Not if you don't want them to," Remus answered softly, pushing aside some of Harry's curled hair. His fingers rested on the pink lightning scar for a long moment. 

"Thank you." Harry pushed his hand away with a flick. "Goodnight, Moons. Goodnight, Pads. You may go now."

Sirius snickered. "We may go now," he mimicked, taking Remus's hand. They could hear Harry humming himself to sleep as they left. 

Once they were in their own room, Sirius let out a long sigh and slumped into the softness of his bed.

"Thank Merlin," he whispered as Remus got in next to him. "I was so worried we would have to deal with that regularly."

Remus sighed and his face softened. "And the worst thing is, they've always been so _nice_. Still are." He wrapped his arms around Sirius. "You should have heard Molly when you left. Kept telling me how I 'had more options' and that you 'had no right to use me.'"

"I'm glad I didn't hear," he grumbled, closing his eyes. "Goodnight, Moons."

"Goodnight, Pads."

Sirius began to drift off into sleep, feeling warm and sleepy and filled with relief. As he was falling asleep, Remus murmured something. 

"Maybe Harry will be so tired, he won't wake us at four in the morning."

Sirius smiled at that. 

"You know you love him."

 

 


	12. Boy Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets colorful nails. A short, fun chapter. :D

"Pads! Pads!"

Sirius was in the bed room when Harry came calling. He was trying on the nail polish Remus had gotten him. He'd never tried it before, but his partner seemed to know him well. 

Just as Remus said he would, he adored it. 

"What is it, Harry-boy?" he called, turning around to face the door. 

"What're you doing, Pads?" Harry asked, poking his head timidly into the doorway. 

"Trying out Moony's birthday present to me," he answered. "Do you remember my birthday? It wasn't that long ago." 

Harry beamed. "I do!" he answered, scuttling into the room to sit next to him on thr bed. "Moony let me put the candies on the cake." He heaved himself up onto the bed, scrambling a bit until he landed inconveniently in Sirius' lap. 

"Sprinkles, not candies," he corrected, though it was pointless. "Speaking of your Moony, where is he? I bet he would love to read with you right now." Sirius really wanted to finish his nails in case Harry decided to roughhouse. 

But the boy was in a snuggly mood and tucked his head under Sirius' arm. 

"He said he's _writing_ ," Harry said in way of explanation. He sighed a little. 

Sirius chuckled. Remus had taken it upon himself recently to write a novel, since he decided it was the only work he could legally be paid for as a werewolf. 

"Then you'll have to stay with me," he answered, picking up the bottle of polish again. "I have to finish this, though. Maybe we can do yours after."

Harry straightened up and looked at Sirius' hand.

"What's that?" he inquired, leaning closet. "It smells funny." He wrinkled his nose. 

Sirius lifted his hands and painted the index finger of his right hand. It was harder on that side. 

"It's nail polish," he answered. "It changed color based on my mood. Moony found it in Diagon." They had gone out on a "date night" on his birthday. He practically had to beg Remus not to go in Polyjuice. 

"Ooh." Harry watched closely as Sirius finished his hand. "Does Moony like it, too?"

"Not as much as me," Sirius answered. In a whisper, he added, "But that's because he doesn't like looking as nice as I do."

Harry giggled and covered his mouth. "Ugly jumpers!" he exclaimed, repeating a sentiment Sirius had expressed many times. 

"That's right." Sirius fanned his hands dry, and he watched as the nails all faded to an orange color. Amusement. 

"Now, shall we paint yours, my lion?" he asked, using the posh Black accent that never failed to make Harry giggle. 

"Yes, please, Pads!"

Sirius picked up one of his small hands. The brush was practically as wide as his nails. 

"Hold still, now," he advised as he began to apply it. 

Harry was grinning, but he did his best to hold himself as still as a rock. His free hand was clenched in a fist, but he could not contain his excitement as the polish turned dark green when it was applied. 

"It's my favorite color!" he exclaimed. Dark green meant joy. It was fitting for Harry, really. 

Sirius laughed as he finished applying it. He used a wandless drying spell so Harry was free to use it. 

He immediately jumped off the bed and stared at his hand, squealing in delight as the green started going yellow, and then orange. 

"Come on, Harry," Sirius chuckled. "We still have to do the other hand!"

* * *

As they were preparing dinner that night, Harry was lying on his back and staring at his hands. 

"They won't change color!" he cried in frustration. Just as he said that, however, they turned a dark pink. He laughed in delight and they turned orange. 

Remus rolled his eyes. "I should have known he'd like it better than you," he murmured, stirring the pan of curry.

"I was a little surprised. He usually enjoys boy things," Sirius answered. He had Remus wrapped in a hug from behind, and was resting his chin on the other's shoulder. 

"So do you," Remus answered, shifting around in order to kiss him on the cheek. "Besides. He doesn't know it's a girl thing. And we won't tell him that."

"He doesn't need gender rules," Sirius agreed. "I suppose that's one case for raising him in such isolation..."

Remus sighed. "Not again, love. You know it's for the best." He went a little tighter in Sirius' arms. 

"I know," Sirius sighed. "And I'm sure James and Lily would be doing the same. But I don't want us to _hide_." 

"Shh." Remus set down the spoon, turned around, and kissed him on the lips. 

That distracted Sirius properly. Remus' kisses were less common than he'd prefer, but he relished every one and never complained when one came his way. The bastard probably knew that, too... But he was still a brillant kisser. 

Sirius forgot what they were doing and focused on Remus' mouth and face. He was about to get serious with his tongue when he heard Harry cry out. 

"Ewwww!" the boy wailed. "Nooo..."

Sirius sighed and pulled away. He smelled the curry burning. 

"Dammit, Lupin," he grumbled, turning off the heat. "This is why you leave the curry to me--I'm the one who Mrs. Potter taught!" He laughed as he said it, only meaning to tease. 

"Yes, but you practically burn it with all the spices you use," Remus muttered. 

"You're just a pansy. Harry likes it spicy. Don't you, Harry?" 

"Spicy!" Harry exclaimed, looking up with a grin. 

Remus scoffed. "Obviously. He has that Potter blood. You, on the other hand, do not. I can't see how you cope."

"I may be very French, but I was James' honorary brother." He could say it now with a smile and not feel sad. Wistful, perhaps, but nothing worse. 

"Fine, love," Remus answered. "I just wish there was more of his culture we could give Harry." 

Sirius smiled as an idea struck him. 

"When Harry's older, why don't we take him to India? We can see what it's like and learn about the culture. I'm sure he would love it."

James had always talked about going, though apparently not even his parents had gone back since moving to Britain. It would be fitting for Harry to go. 

Besides, they had been holed up a while. Having a big trip to look forward to would be perfect. 

"When he's older," Remus confirmed. "I'm still not comfortable with too much travel, especially with that new strain of dragon pox going around..."

"Fine, fine," Sirius muttered. "But we'll do it, yeah? We have to."

"Of course." Remus kissed his forehead. "But that reminds me. We have to call that private healer again. He needs a check up."

Just then, Harry padded into the kitchen and grabbed both of their hands. 

"Moony, Padfoot," he said with a whiny tone, "I'm hungry. You said it would be ready."

Remus smiled and crouched down to Harry's level. 

"It's ready!" he said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Why don't you help me set the table?" 

Harry nodded earnestly. "Okay!" He scurried away and stepped up onto the step stool they kept by the counter. "I want my red plate." He couldn't quite reach the shelf it was on.

Sirius stepped over and got it down for him. "There you go."

"Thank you!" Harry snatched it away and jumped off the stool. He ran to the table and sat down immediately with a thump. 

Both of the men chuckled as they gathered their own cutlery. They carried the food over to the table where Harry waited eagerly, practically buzzing with excitement. 

They sat down and served the food. As he ate, Harry made happy humming noises and made a mess of rice and sauce. 

"Spicy, spicy," he sang as he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. 

Remus winced as he took his own bite. "Right," he grumbled. He cleared his throat. "What did you do today, Harry?"

"Pads made my nails pretty," Harry answered around a mouthful. "See?" He lifted up a curry-covered hand. The nails had turned a dark red-orange. 

"Very pretty," Remus agreed. 

Sirius smiled at both of them. He felt very lucky to have so much love in his life. 

 

 


	13. Christmas Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who's the god? The big bearded guy in the red coat I've been seeing around?"
> 
> Remus' eyes widened in momentary shock, but then something seemed to register. 
> 
> "No, Pads," he groaned. "That's Father Christmas. Originally a part of folklore, but now he's just one of the corporate symbols muggle business men created to sell the holiday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some serious theological discussion... ha.

"Remus, darling, I've been meaning to ask. All these muggle decorations--they're not for Christmas, are they?"

They had gone on a short visit to Edinburgh in early December to get used to travel again. It was close enough, but still different from what they were used to. Just something to stir things up.

They were sitting in a muggle coffee shop filled with bright red and green decorations. A small evergreen tree was propped up in the corner-- _indoors!_ \--and was covered with shimmering glass ornaments.  A clay-looking reindeer with a red nose and an American accent was dancing around in a black box nearby, and Sirius found himself more confused than anything.

Muggles were so strange. 

"Yes," Remus answered dryly, sipping his coffee. "They love it." He looked rather pissed about it. 

Harry kicked his legs as he sipped at a small, blue cup of drinking chocolate. Sirius was enjoying a similar drink, though his had peppermint extract and less whipped cream. 

"And should we?" Sirius inquired, licking his lips to clean off the chocolate. 

Remus sighed and reached over to wipe a bit off cream that he missed, glancing nervously over at the employee to make sure they hadn't seen. The shop was relatively empty, so they were safe.  

"No," he said definitively, to Sirius' inexplicable disappointment. "You know I'm an atheist, Pads. Muggle Christmas is an inherently religious holiday that has evolved into materialistic greed that benefits the corporate power." He sounded bored, as if he had said it a thousand times before.

Harry wasn't paying attention. He was raptly watching the muggle box with the reindeer in it. There was an elf now, too.

"You've been reading again, haven't you?" Sirius asked with a smirk, refraining from reaching across the table to hold his hand. He didn't want them to get booted out of another establishment for "blatant homosexual display."

"Sod off," Remus muttered, taking a slurp of coffee. Clearly, he hadn't slept well in the inn.

"It's not much like Christmas at Hogwarts, is it?" Sirius mused, remembering all the posters of a fat old man dressed in red. 

"Not entirely," Remus agreed. "I never celebrated at home, but at school I could certainly tell. There's the gifts and the cheer, I suppose, but none of the religious undertones. Suppose we don't need it."

Sirius had grown up with little understanding of muggles, let alone religion. His family worshiped magic and blood purity, and found things like gods to be very tedious and common. Destestable, in fact. After all, only a dimwit muggle would put belief in a false power--because they had no power of their own. 

But Purebloods? They could worship themselves. They had magic, money, power--why wouldn't they want to inbreed?

If Mother was so against it, perhaps religion wasn't so bad. Maybe Sirius could convince Remus to give it a try. 

He didn't really know what atheist meant, either. 

"Religion, huh?" he asked. "Who's the god? The big bearded guy in the red coat I've been seeing around?"

Remus' eyes widened in momentary shock, but then something seemed to register. 

"No, Pads," he groaned. "That's Father Christmas. Originally a part of folklore, but now he's just one of the corporate symbols muggle business men created to sell the holiday. Christmas is _actually_ about the birth of an ancient prophet." His lips were drawn into a tight frown.

"Like Merlin?" Sirius asked. "Do we celebrate Merlin's birthday? I never checked." He took another drink of the minty chocolate. 

"Er, I suppose." Remus ran a hand through his curls in an endearing fashion. "But muggle Christians celebrate Jesus. They think he was the son of god--and no, he was not the son of Father Christmas. He performed miracles--magic, really." 

Sirius smirked. "So, he was probably a wizard."

"Probably," Remus agreed with a long sigh. "But here's where it gets tricky. Muggles think magic is a divine gift, which inflates certain wizards' heads--take your parents for example. They start thinking they're the godly, chosen ones because they have the magic."

"Makes sense. But not true. We've not any more god-given powers than anyone else." Sirius felt strained as he said it--sometimes, saying things like that felt backwards. He could spend his entire life trying to wash away his mother's teachings, but some of her words were still ingrained into the back of his mind. 

"Right, love," Remus agreed, giving him a squeeze on the knee from under the table. "Which is why I am an atheist. Because a god can't have chosen or 'blessed' any of us with magic--it's got to be chance, some twist of fate in the universe." He gave Sirius a loving look, but he looked deep in thought. 

Of course, Sirius knew Remus loved nothing more than intellectual conversations like these. The bugger seemed to get off on them or something. So he was going to try to carry it on. 

Not that he was any good at it. He never spent time pondering these things.

"So, Christmas. Do all muggles celebrate it and this Jesus?" He leaned forward a bit to stare intently at Remus, though he cast a quick glance at Harry, who had somehow procured a coloring book. 

"Godric, no." Remus laughed as he shook his head. "Here, most people are Christian. But there's other religions with other saints and prophets that started in other areas. Like in India, we'll see a lot of Hinduism."

Sirius frowned. "Did the Potters practice that religion? I mean, I never saw anything of the sort... But before they moved here, you think?" He lived with the Potters for years, and yet it had never come up. Moony was sure to be more aware of that sort of thing.

"They were atheists, too, love. You know how they felt about that pureblood shite. Wizards aren't typically religious anyhow." He was still smiling fondly, and they were discreetly holding hands under the table. 

"So, we should just raise Harry atheist, is what you're saying. No Christmas," he pouted, remembering all his happy Hogwarts memories of Christmas presents and decorations put on by the school. 

"Not necessarily," Remus muttered with a sigh. "I suppose there is a cultural aspect to it that Harry would enjoy... Even if it's funding corporate powers..." 

Sirius grinned joyfully. "I love you, Moons." He turned to Harry, who had scribbled all over the page in purple and green. "Did you hear that, lion? Moons is letting us celebrate Christmas!"

Harry looked up and giggled, but since they were in public, he was acting shy. He turned back to his coloring. 

Remus buried his face in his hands. 

"What would my mother say?" he asked himself, moaning in frustration. "I was raised _Jewish_."

Sirius frowned. "What's that, Remus?"

* * *

When they came home, Sirius had insisted on having Christmas decorations. They had dropped Harry off at the Longbottom's so he could return to find the house completely redecorated.

Sirius was elated (his mother would hate every bit of it). Remus, on the other hand, was slightly bitter.

"If we're going to do something culturally muggle _and_ religious, can I at least honor my loving mother and father by celebrating Hanukkah?" he had asked sourly as they were setting up the tree. "We could at least get a menorah!"

"But isn't that more religious than this?" Sirius asked with a smirk. "From your grumblings earlier today, I gathered that a tree has no religious ties. But from your other ramblings, a menorah is religious and symblolic."

Remus scowled and dusted off his hands. "Why are you only sharp when it benefits you?" he grumbled, turning away to drop onto thr couch. "And you can be Jewish without believing in god. My mother is Jewish, and I was raised that way, so I think I can do what I like with the customs." He was frowning in concentration. 

Sirius slid into the spot next to him and wrapped him in a side embrace. 

"Then why did I never hear about any of this at school?" he queried, nuzzling into Remus' neck. 

"Because it's never been a defining part of me," he answered curtly. "Because I'm an atheist. Like my father."

"Then why is this such a big deal to you?" He was used to Remus being a grump about silly things, of course, but it was his job to un-grump him. He pressed a few feathery kisses on his cheek. 

That effectively made Remus much less tense. 

"Because I feel like Mum's watching me from the grave," Remus whispered, without a hint of irony. "I feel like we've gotten so caught up in what Dumbledore wants, what _James_ would have wanted... I know you don't care about your family, but I want to honor mine."

Sirius frowned and sat up, tilting Remus' face to look at him.

"Why didn't you say so?" he said quickly. "You could have just said so. You know how I feel about all that. I still want us to be us."

Frankly, he was surprised it was Remus voicing this. Usually, it was just Sirius moaning about all the rule following.

"It's just... I know Dumbledore wouldn't like it, he'd want us to do what James and Lily would do... But we're not hurting Harry by being us, are we?" He let out a long exhale and curled himself into Sirius' chest. "I'm just so tired of all of this."

Sirius nodded in agreement and began to play with Remus' curls.

"Well, we can celebrate Hanukkah, too. I'm sure Harry won't mind."

Remus just laughed. "I'm sure all he'll care about is the sheer amount of red and green we're about to plaster the house with."

* * *

They put an evergreen tree by the fireplace, and as strange as it was to keep a tree indoors, Sirius adored it. Remus had pulled out an old book entitled "Christmas Spells," and they used it to conjure "tinsel" (shiny and frilly string) and brightly colored bulbs that wouldn't break when dropped (which was apparently a problem). They moved the sofa and the coffee table to make room for a train set that Sirius had insisted on buying, and they even colored one of the walls red and green (because Harry would adore that).

What resulted was a very festive room, which most muggles probably couldn't even contend with. They had wreaths and garlands strung over everything, and draped the sofa and table in red and green covers. Sirius tried one of the spells in the book and conjured faux snowflakes that hung from the ceiling. He even went to town and found a muggle carving of Father Christmas, which looked creepy, but it was  _festive._

They even put a menorah on the fireplace mantel, but it wasn't enough to satisfy Remus.

"This is disgusting," he grumbled. "We are disgusting, filthy, Christmas trash."

"Does that mean we get to smell like peppermint?"

Remus had only groaned, and Sirius decided to placate him by conjuring some mistletoe. It had been enough to distract him from whinging until it was time to go and get Harry.

When Harry was brought back home, he was utterly terrified by the change that the house had gone over. In fact, he had burst out crying and collapsed onto the floor. 

"It's--it's g-gone, Moony!" he blubbered, looking up at Remus. "The house is gone!"

Remus looked like he was about to shit his pants. He gave Sirius a desperate look that didn't even say _I told you so_ and whispered, "Do something!"

Sirius gulped and stared at Remus in shock. "You're the one who's good at crying kids! Not me!"

Remus' eyes stretched minutely in a pleading gesture, and Sirius had no choice but to get down onto the floor to comfort the wailing boy. 

"No, no, Harry, my lion," he crooned, trying to pull him onto his lap. "It's not gone! See?" He pointed at the fireplace, which was stil in its usual spot. "Not gone!"

Harry hiccuped and began to cry some more, and Remus had gone into the other room to get some tissues and some warm, wet cloths.

"Harry, it's like that time you made your walls colorful," he said assuringly as he tried to pull the toddler to a sitting position. "Nothing went away."

Harry swallowed and stopped being noisy. "I don't like it," he sniffled. 

Sirius nodded and ruffled his hair. "Then we can get rid of it." He drew his wand and banished most of the shining decorations, leaving only the tree and the menorah.

 _Six hours of work,_ he thought glumly. The room looked much more bare now. 

Remus hurried into the room ans barely gave the room-sans-decorations a second glance. He sat down on the floor with him and began cleaning up Harry's face. 

"There you go," he murmured. "I'm sorry we tried to surprise you like that, Harry. It was silly."

Sirius was just glad Remus didn't try to blame him for the disaster. 

"S'ok," Harry replied as the wet cloth wiped away at his face. "I'm hungry."

Remus grinned and looked up at Sirius. "Go get the latkes," he ordered, and then turned back to coddling Harry. "I taught Pads my mum's latke recipe. You'll like them."

Sirius rolled his eyes as he went to fetch the strange, oil-based potato cakes. Those, at least, had been a few hours' work he didn't need to vanish. 

Harry had calmed down, and they ate their dinner by the fireplace that night, consisting mostly of latkes. In all his excitement, Sirius had forgotten to get much else in regards of food to restock the pantry after the Edinburgh trip.

Harry liked Remus' mother's recipe, apparently, but the boy would eat anything with potatoes in it.

"Not spicy," he commented as he licked his fingers clean. They hadn'y bothered to use utensils.

"That's why your Moons likes it," Sirius answered with a wink.

"And your Pads is not touching the recipe with a single teaspoon of Mrs. Potter's special spice," Remus grumbled, greedily snatching at another latke. 

"Oh, I'm sure some cumin would do wonders..."

"Stop it, Black!" Remus laughed as he took a bite. "You are not tainting my family tradition any more than you already have."

Sirius snickered and snatched away a bite of Remus' food, which made him snarl and Harry giggle. 

"You know you love me," Sirius purred, and he kissed kissed him on the cheek. 

Remus rolled his eyes and clearly bit back a smirk. 

"Let's just get it over with and light the menorah." 

He used its wand to light it, which Sirius wondered was allowed within the rules. But Harry seemed to enjoy it, and clapped at the display. 

Sirius' Christmas idea was apparently a failure, but Hanukkah was a clear success. They kept the tree and lit another candle every night.

In the end, however, Remus looked a little sick of it all. 

"I always hated the holidays," he said on the last night, after they had put Harry to bed. "What was I thinking?" He pulled off his trousers and plopped into bed. 

Sirius smirked and took of his own. "I've always loved it," he said quietly. "Muggles are so interesting."

"It gets me worked up," Remus muttered. "I start thinking and thinking about everything that's wrong with it all..."

Sirius rolled him over and pressed into his back. "It's just a candelabra, love," he murmured. 

"To you, maybe," Remus murmured, "but it makes me think of all the religious wars muggles have fought... and how we've had our own wars for blood purity... and how we lost--"

"Hush." Sirius cut him off with a kiss. "We gained Harry, and we want to give him enough positive experiences to steer him away from being like the Death Eaters. Think of how good this has been for him."

"Agreed," Remus sighed. "But as much as I adore my mother, may she rest in peace, let's just stick to muggle interactions and keep religion out of it. I don't want to confuse him."

Sirius wasn't about to fight him over anything he wasn't particularly passionate about, so he kissed the back of his neck and wished him a good night. 

He dreamed of muggles and deer and things that were spicy that night. Childhood memories.

When he woke up that morning, he did not miss James, and just pulled Remus closer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I was raised Christian. I am now an atheist. I only know about Hanukkah through my Jewish friends. I hope that explains the strangeness of this holiday scheme.


	14. Snow(balling Out of Control)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, Harry is four. :) Sorry for skipping ahead.

“Snow!”

“Harry, you’ve seen snow before,” said Sirius, teasingly.

Remus chuckled. “You weren’t excited last time. It’s still, snow, Harry.”

Harry looked up at them with his green eyes glowing with earnest and unadulterated joy.

“So,” he said firmly, and his small mouth set into a determined line. “This is _snow_.” He said it reverently, as if this were a very, very different thing than just any kind of snow.

“Okay,” Sirius said, not willing to argue with a toddler over what and what not was snow. E was sure to lose, anyway.

Remus just rolled his eyes and and held out a hand to capture some fat snowflakes in his palm. They were coming down in thick flurries, swirling and spiraling down to the powdered ground.

“Why is this _snow_ , Harry?” Remus asked him, wand he said it with the same reverence as Harry did, so he would understand.

Harry caught some snowflakes in his own palm, and watched in fascination as they melted into his pal, seeming to disappear. He didn’t answer for a moment, enraptured by reveling in the special snow. He grinned widely as a big, fat flake landed flat on the center of his nose.

“Harry,” Remus prompted.

Harry looked up at him and grinned.

"Nev’s dad read us a book,” Harry said slowly, “and there were snowflakes. Big, pretty snowflakes. Like this.”

“What kind of book?” asked Sirius, knowing that Frank had a plethora of storybooks for both of the boys whenever they were over. Frank was more of a fan of books than even Remus, who stuck to reading educational books instead of fairy tales and the like. If there were any books of stories, Remus would be the one writing them, and they weren't for children.

Sirius was the one who told the children's stories, but those were always ridiculous and never in actual book-form.

“I don’t remember,” Harry murmured. “Snow.” And then he plopped down onto the ground and began picking up scoops of snow, looking both gravely awed and joyous at the same time. He paid no attention to the fact that he was soaking his bum (and in effect, his favorite wool coat).

Sirius did the first thing that came to mind and sat down on the ground, too, but Remus was more sensible and cast warming and drying charms on them both before joining them.

They were all sitting on the snowy lawn, feeling very much like a united front, a family, trapped within the storm and the cold front.

“Did you know that every snowflake is unique?” Sirius asked Harry, hoping to impress him (and Remus, of course; he couldn’t _always_ be the smart one).

“They are?” Harry gasped, and picked up another handful of snow, trying to pick out every individual snowflake.

Remus let out a tiny, groan, but he didn’t say anything.

“What?” Sirius snapped.

“Nothing,” answered Remus, looking as though he very much wanted to say something.

“Really?” Sirius asked. “Nothing to add?”

Harry was ignoring them, used to their bantering. He would only react if they were starting to sound hostile, which was usually only around the full moon.

Remus sighed and shifted, and Sirius at once knew he was about to be a smartass.

“Statistically,” he began, looking as though he were reluctant to burst any bubbles, “they can’t all be unique. There’s billions of them in a single storm, and stretch that out over billions of years… there’s bound to have been the same shaped snowflake before, or even now.” He looked relieved to have said it, the words having come out in a very Remus-like rush.

Sirius couldn’t help but groan, which ilicited a funny little snort from Harry.

“Killjoy,” he said to Remus. “Know it all. You had to ruin snowflakes for me.”

Remus gave him an apologetic smile and reached behind Harry to take his hand.

“Chances are, love, you’ll never find two identical snowflakes,” he said in way of assurance.

Sirius just grinned at the challenge.

“You think I can’t, Moons?” he demanded, and turned to Harry. “Do you want to find some not-so-special snowflakes, Harry?” he asked.

Remus’ eyes widened, and he looked exasperated. “Sirius, it’s not a matter of skill. It's luck, really,.” He sounded a bit pleading now. Probably because he knew Sirius well enough by now that several hours were about to be wasted.

“And aren’t I the luckiest?” Sirius asked with a wink, pushing himself to his feet. Harry was already up, looking eager as he caught snowflakes with his hands.

“Sirius….”

“Come on, you can help,” Sirius told him. “You’ve always been better at charmwork than me.”

“What are you planning on doing with charms?”

“Magic!” cried Harry excitedly.

Sirius decided he would demonstrate. He lifted his wand into the air and pointed at a flurry of snowflakes in the air.

“ _Engorgio!_ ” he exclaimed, and three snowflakes swelled so that they were the size of his palm.

Harry squealed in excitement, and then they dropped to the ground.

“See, you can’t just enlarge snowflakes,” Remus told him, picking up a fractured and not-very-symmetrical part of one of the large flakes. Harry was making happy noises as he picked apart his own pieces of snowflake.

“You try and do better!” Sirius demanded, petulant.

“Watch me,” Remus challenged.

Instead of finding snowflake pairs, it quickly became a game of who could retain the shape of the snowflakes best, and who could keep theirs in the air the longest. Harry was the happy and willing judge.

He would pick up each snowflake and inspect it closely before it melted in his hands, and would assign it an arbitrary number on a scale of one to twenty (which was as high as he could count).

Sirius pointed his wand high into the air, and a single hexagonal snowflake expanded. Symmetrical, sharp angled, and not too botched by Sirius' poor spellwork.

"Seven," Harry announced. It was the fifth time in a row that he had used that number; he was getting less creative.

"Really?" Sirius whined, watching as it fluttered gracefully to the ground, getting an entire ten seconds of air time.

"Hmmm." Harry watched closely as it landed, mimicking one of Remus' signature looks by tilting his head and placing his mittened hands on his hips. "Eight?" he said tentatively.

"Six," Remus whispered traitorously.

Harry looked up at him and frowned. "S'a nine, actually," he said without hesitation.

Sirius crowed in victory, and Remus glowered at him. Before another second could pass, Remus was on the ground and scooping his hands into the snow. 

Within seconds, he had a beautifully packed snowball, and Sirius knew he had to run. Remus had been famous in their Maruading days for packing some particularly nasty snowballs.

Especially when he charmed them to follow after the target.

Sirius cursed as he tried to duck behind a tree, only to have a fat snowball smack him in the back. Remus began cackling to the point that he doubled over and lost his hat. Harry was watching as well, looking confused but delighted.

"You'll pay for that, Lupin!" Sirius yelled, braving a moment to move from his hiding spot behind the bare tree. 

And then, of course, it was all out war. Snowballs were exploding all over the place, some charmed and some not, and Harry was amidst the crossfire of it all, laughing and ducking and cheering. 

There were snowballs with all kinds of enchantments, from Remus' classic target lock to Sirius' increased speed. Then, one of Remus' snowballs turned bright orange and splattered all over Sirius. It immediately set in, turning his black coat a hideous citrus color. He was sure some of it had had splattered onto his face, too, but he couldn't tell because his face was already too cold to tell.

"Not fair!" he cried, trying to shake it off. "Moony, you've stained me orange!"

"That wasn't me!" Remus cried through his snickering.

Sirius didn't believe it, so he flung another snowball at his partner. Before hitting him, it turned purple. Then, Remus, too was covered in colorful ice crystals. And he didn't look at all happy about it, even though he was half covered in snow clumps already.

"I told you, it wasn't me!" Remus protested, now also stained. "You didn't have to do it back!"

"Wasn't me either!" Sirius returned vehemently.

The snowball flinging stopped. They both stared at each other for a moment, and then both turned to Harry, who was still standing there, staring at them. His hands were behind his back, and he looked a little flustered.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I did magic again."

They both laughed in pleasant relief. 

Harry giggled, too. He removed his hands from behind his back, and Sirius realized he was holding a small snowball of his own making.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look, and they gave Harry a moment. He lifted his arm in the air and flung it at them. It missed by a long shot, barely reaching either of them. But it was the effort that was sweet.

"Nice shot, little guy!" Sirius exclaimed, walking over to him. "The colors were a great touch, too."

"Thanks, Pads," Harry murmured, looking up at him with wide, green eyes. He began rubbing his hands together, and Sirius realized the mittens were gone. His fingers were bright red from the cold, and he threw him a pouting look.

If the boy was looking for sympathy, it had the intended effect.

"Oh, Harry. You're cold," he remarked, crouching down to take the boy's hands in his own, which weren't much warmer or any less red. He tried to cast a warming charm, but he was terrible at them. "Remus, get over here and warm us up."

Remus hurried over, and Sirius noticed that there were clumps of snow stuck in his sandy hair. Some purple had speckled its way up his neck, and his nose was nipped pink from the cold. 

It was endearing.

"I've done enough charms. Let's get you inside, yeah?" he asked, picking Harry up. "We can get your colors off of us, and you can have some hot chocolate to warm you up."

"Yes, please," said Harry, burying his hands in the collar of Remus' coat. He was smiling, looking a little smug.

Of course he was. He knew how to get their attention.

As Remus carried their little boy back into the cottage, Sirius found the mittens discarded on the ground. He picked them up, shoved them in his pocket, and laughed to himself. 

_Looks like I'm rubbing off on the little bugger. Attention hog._

And then he hurried after them, not wanting to miss a single moment of their presence.


	15. Concerns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An all over the place chapter. Sirius is just second guessing everything.

Spring had come with the sweet pleasantry of Remus’ soap bubble charm (which may or may not have been the only way they convinced Harry to take a bath). It was warm and brief and bright at Godric’s Hollow, little bursts of warm sunlight followed by long bouts of rain and thunder. It wasn’t their first spring there, but it was more likely to be the first one that Harry would remember.

So, he and Remus tried their best to make it a good spring. There were bubble charms cast while having picnics in isolated meadows, and nature walks by far away streams. They spent afternoons with Frank and Neville in muggle parks, for some reason, they weren’t quite as afraid of the world in that time.

Maybe it was easier to be less paranoid when there was more sun and better moods. Sirius had always thought the winter in England gave him seasonal depressive disorder (something Remus had told him about back in fifth year) .He hoped that next winter or at least the winter after that, they would be able to go somewhere warm for the winter. Greece certainly had been nice, after all.

But Harry and the rest of them were enjoying the warm springtime at home. Remus had started a garden, where he was trying to grow some strange strain of red poppies and several potions ingredients that they could use for healing pastes. The grass popped out of the earth in the front yard slowly but surely, and Harry would spend hours sifting through it looking for earthworms and beetles. When the butterflies came in early May, Remus had taught Harry how to catch butterflies and keep them I aerated jars. It was something fun that Sirius had never gotten to do as a child.

There were lots of things about childhood that Sirius had missed out on, with his terrifying pureblooded parents and what not. Remus would be the one to step in for a lot of things, teaching Sirius how to nurture and play with their little boy

That’s not to say Sirius didn’t know how to have fun. He prided himself on being the fun parent, after all. But Remus was the one with the safer, more toddler-approved ideas. Sirius’ idea of fun and games, Remus said, would have to wait until he was older.

Sit was something that Sirius needed, and yet something that he kept trying to tell himself that he didn’t. He knew how to be loving, how to be a good parent—but there were times that a bit of his parents’ brainwashing would leave him at a loss.

When Harry threw a tantrum or broke something, Sirius knew his own parents would have punished him, yelling and screaming and damaging him. So, it was Sirius’ first reaction to do the exact opposite, which often resulted in doing nothing. That, Remus told him, was not the solution either. There had to be some discipline, which usually took the form of a reminder or a time out. 

There were things they let Harry get away with, sure. Like crawling into bed with them at three in the morning because he had a nightmare, or a spurt of accidental magic that colored his walls or made a tomato explode in Sirius’ face. Those were completely excusable, though they were things that Sirius could have never gotten away with as a boy.

Then, there were the times when Harry might refuse to share a toy with Neville, or he would catch an earthworm and want to rip it in half, or even refuse to go somewhere with them and end up screaming in protest. Those were normal toddler things, he knew, but he wasn’t sure how to handle them without being extreme.

So, Remus would step in.

“Share with your friends, Harry,” he said, “or else you won’t get to play with any toys.”

“We don’t hurt living things, little lion. Not even if they’re funny things like earth worms. Would you ever want to be ripped in half?”

"Sometimes we have to do not so fun things, Harry. Like going to the grocery store.”

For the last one, Sirius would always want to step in with a promise of buying him candy while they were there, or taking him somewhere more fun afterwards. But Remus had a firmer hand than he did, he supposed.

Sometimes, Sirius would feel bad. If Remus was always the one reprimanding him, then it might tip the scales so that Harry preferred Sirius, and that was not something that he wanted.

“It’s normal, Pads,” Remus had assured him. “Kids swing back and forth. One day, I’ll be his favorite, but it could change in a second, and then it will be you.’

That had made Sirius frown, made him feel sad. “That’s not how I want it to be, though.”

“Then maybe you should step in sometimes,” Remus answered passively, and returned to reading his book.

Sirius never did, though. He never did know how to say no to Harry. Or to Remus. Or anyone he loved, really.

It was different with people like Dumbledore. He wanted to say no there, and sometimes he could, but his dear and rational Remus would always remind him that he needed to follow the rules, even if they were Dumbledore’s. Just like he reminded Harry to follow their rules.

Some things never changed, really. Remus had been the same way in school.

Sirius didn’t know what he would be doing without his Moony to help him raise Harry. The boy would be spoiled more rotten than he already was, and he din’t want to know how that would have turned out. He wanted a fair and kind boy, not a spoiled prat (like he had been before he was friends with James and Remus and Peter).

But Remus was always there to set the boy straight, reminding him of what was right and wrong, gently pushing him in the direction when he needed it. 

Sirius was of the mindset of "let him do whatever he wants, as long as he's not hurting anyone." Remus mostly agreed--there were certain things that they just couldn't allow, no matter what Harry wanted, even if it wasn't bad.

Like going out into wizarding areas, or letting him call them his parents, or acting like his parents in public. Those were things that neither Dumbledore or society would allow. 

That was always the hardest, telling Harry off for something that wasn't wrong to them, something that seemed so harmless. Something that shouldn't have been as harmful as it was.

The worst of it happened after one of Harry's playdates with Neville. Frank was very close with his son, and of course Harry noticed that it wasn't that different from his own relationship with Sirius and Remus. And of course he wanted to say something about that to their unexpected guest.

Dumbledore.

He had begun with babbling about the storybook that Frank read, getting scratched by their kneazle kitten, playing hide and seek in the backyard, and other harmless things. The headmaster had sat through it all, listening politely while his eyes twinkled. Occasionally he would offer some encouraging comment that would make Harry giggle with delight (it pained Sirius to admit it, but the man was good with children).

But then, things went into dangerous territory.

"But it's funny sometimes," Harry murmured, frowning slightly. "Nev only has one da."

"Oh?" Dumbledore inquired. He shot Sirius and Remus a curious glance.

They were standing on the other side of the room, where the living room merged into the dining area, nervously sipping tea at the table and watching the exchange. There was nothing they could do to quiet Harry.

"Yeah. Only one da. It's funny, isn't it?" Harry twiddled with his thumbs a bit. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, his too-small legs dangling over the edge. 

"Very funny," Dumbledore commented, leaning forward. "But, Harry. Who has two fathers, that you know of?"

Harry looked at him like green hair was sprouting out of his ears. 

"I do," he said, looking over at Remus and Sirius. "Moony and Padfoot are my da's. Nev only has one da. What happened to the other one?"

Sirius bit down on his lip so hard he began bleeding, and he felt Remus clutching his knee from underneath the table. Dumbledore sent them another warning glare, and they didn't need to be bound by any magical contracts to know that they weren't allowed to interfere.

"You don't have two fathers, Harry," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Yes, I do," Harry insisted. "Pads and Moons. They do everything Nev's da does, so they're my da's."

Dumbledore let out a quiet but long sigh. "Harry, my boy, perhaps I should explain to you how families work."

Sirius didn't want to listen anymore. He knew he wasn't Harry's "da" or anything besides his godfather, but it hurt knowing that Harry thought of them as his parents, and Dumbledore was spoiling it.

Was it wrong to feel that way?

"Everyone has a mother and a father, Harry," Dumbledore began. "I've told you this before. James is your father, and Lily is your mother."

"But they're gone," Harry insisted. "Pads and Moons are right there."

"They are your guardians, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "Neville has a mother and a father, too. Frank is his father, and Alice is his mother. Alice is gone, but that doesn't mean she's not his mother."

 _That's different,_ Sirius thought treacherously.  _Very, very different._

Neville and Frank still got to see Alice. Every Sunday they would go visit her at St. Mungo's and bring her lemongrass scented candles and chewing gum. Harry didn't have that same luxury, getting to see Lily. He didn't even get to know her. Or James.

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Are all mothers gone?" 

"No, Harry," the headmaster answered. "But some mothers were brave and fought against the Dark. So did some fathers. Yours did, too."

"Pads and Moons fought?" Harry asked, perking up in curiosity.

Another sigh from Dumbledore, exasperated and angry. Sirius could feel a red exhalation of his burning magic from across the room.

"Yes, I suppose so. But I meant James."

_Poor Albus. He's apparently not used to talking to four year olds with one-track minds._

"Okay." Harry kicked his legs a bit, beginning to look bored. 

"Remus and Sirius are not your parents. They did not make you," Dumbledore insisted.

Sirius clenched his teeth in an effort to stifle his frustration, and Remus took his hand and clenched tight. For a moment, they both stopped listening as Dumbledore continued to rant about things Harry couldn't understand or apparently care about.

"It doesn't matter," Remus reminded him, his voice barely a whisper. "Labels don't matter. We are to Harry what we are. It doesn't matter."

"I know," Sirius gritted, but he couldn't help but feel invalidated.  _And to think Dumbledore is gay. If he had ever adopted his own children, would he tell them the same thing?_

Probably not, he rationalized. His words seemed to be more based off of the fact that Harry was his precious Chosen One, and the fact that Lily and James needed to be honored and credited for that. 

Sirius looked back over at Harry, and saw that the headmaster was done lecturing. Harry looked bored, and he was scratching at his scar. He looked over at Sirius and Remus, and looked pleading.

"Pads, I'm hungry," he said, as if Dumbledore wasn't there. "I'm done."

Next to him, Remus almost snorted as Dumbledore went rigid in surprise.

"I suppose I must get going," the old wizard murmured. "Important things to do. Don't forget my lessons, Harry." 

"Bye," Harry said absently, and hopped off the sofa. He walked straight past Dumbledore (who was watching with a flabbergasted expression on his face) and to the table where they were waiting. 

"It's close enough to lunch time, I think," said Sirius. "We can get out Mrs. Potter's recipe book again. Would you like that?" He took a moment to look at Dumbledore.  _Is that good enough for you? We do try and put parts of James and Lily into his life. Just not the way you seem to want us to._

Dumbledore met his eyes, and a second later, he apparated away. 

As soon as he was gone, Harry looked up at the two of them. He grabbed onto Remus' hand and leaned against the chair. "I don't like him, Da."

Remus visibly flinched. "You heard Dumbledore, Harry. You can't call me that." 

Sirius choked when he heard him say that, but he knew it was true.

"Why?" Harry demanded. " _He's_ not my da. He can't make me do anything."

"Yes, he can," Remus replied, his voice staying steady. "Now, why don't you go with Padfoot to the kitchen? You can help him make something. Nothing too spicy for me."

Harry gave him a perplexed look, and Sirius wondered why Remus didn't seem to be as torn up as much about this as we was.

He probably was. He probably just needed some time.

"Come on, Harry," Sirius murmured. "Let's leave Moons alone. He's probably hangry again."

"Hangry," Harry giggled.

"That's me," Remus growled. "And something with meat, please."

Sirius let out a relieved laugh, an exhalation of tension. "James always teased you about that, didn't he?" He had been a vegetarian, and eating with Remus had always been a hassle.

"He did," Remus agreed. "Not as much about that as my spice intolerance. And don't go forgetting about it again."

Sirius knew when to stop talking about James. Right now, after a round of listening to Dumbledore, was a good time.

"We'll get going to the kitchen."

As he began preparing the meal, Sirius couldn't help but think about all the other things they weren't talking about. Like the way Dumbledore treated them, or how the cons seemed to outweigh the pros by far.

Still, it made Remus feel secure, knowing that Dumbledore would keep him out of the Werewolf Registry, that they had a place to stay and the means to raise Harry. And if Dumbledore was right, it would help Harry be the proper Boy Who Lived.

But that was another thing they weren't talking about--Harry's being the Boy Who Lived, why Voldemort had targeted the Potters, what that meant for Harry. It was as if it were a taboo topic, something they weren't allowed to ask about even if it seemed like it would be something close to home. 

Then again, he doubted there was a way for Dumbledore to know much more about it than he did. He supposed there was Snape, but no matter what Dumbledore said, Sirius wouldn't trust that source. He'd heard Frank murmuring about Lucius Malfoy also being an informant, but he didn't think he trusted that, either. 

Maybe the entire Order of the Phoenix had come up with answers, and they weren't telling Sirius or Remus. Maybe the Order meetings were still ongoing, but they hadn't just been told? What if there was some grand scheme against them? What if--

"Pads." Harry said, interrupting his thoughts. "What do I do with this?" He was holding up the wooden spoon for the rice, waving it around in the air.

Sirius sighed, deciding his paranoid thoughts were best left untouched ( _or is that what Dumbledore wants? No, no, focus, Sirius. Harry's here, Harry's fine, there are no Dark Lords or Death Eater infiltrations or evil conspiracies)_. 

"Just put it down for now, love. We'll use it later."

 


	16. Dancing

July came with a blur of warmth and green leaves and rain. Harry had begun learning how to write, and he was already able to read to himself. He and Neville would spend long afternoons out in the grass catching bugs, or out by the stream catching tadpoles and frogs. When they came in from playing, hot and tired, Remus would give them cold pumpkin juice and Sirius would tell them the stories he made up.

Sometimes, Remus would get inspired by the stories and run off to write them down. Those were the only bits of his writing which he let Sirius read. He'd written hundreds of thousands of words in the past few years, and nearly all of it was off-limits.

"You know you can show me anything, Moons," he told him one day. They were sitting on the back porch while Harry was asleep, listening to the sound of summer crickets sing to the stars.

"You  _can't_ read them, Sirius," Remus spat back, going rigid against him. "It would hurt too much."

"Is it about the war?" Sirius questioned, pulling him in closer.

"Something like that," Remus answered grimly, not recoiling from the touch. "More like the nightmares."

"You write those down?" Sirius asked, a little shocked. He had nightmares from the war, too, of course, though not often. His paranoia liked to trail him during the day. 

"I write everything down."

"And I'm with you all the time. Why can't I read it?" He was beginning to worry if there was something Remus was hiding. What if he wasn't happy? 

"You're too nosy for your own good, Sirius," came the reply. "And it's fine. I just--I need _something_ to be private, alright? I never expected to live this closely with anyone."

"Is that a problem?"  _Am I tying you down?_

"Not at all, love. Just... I'm ready to go somewhere." Remus took in a deep breath, and Sirius tried to ignore the fact that he was clearly changing the subject. "We've barely left the UK since Greece," Remus continued, "and Harry will be five soon. I think that it's been long enough."

Sirius could grant him that, he supposed. Their little road trips across Scotland had been tame, to say the least. They were ready for some adventure.

And an escape from Dumbledore and his secret politics. The more Sirius thought about what he didn't know, the more paranoid he became. There were days when he just wanted Remus to _Obliviate_ him.

So, yes, it was time for a trip.

"Where to?" he inquired.

Remus was quiet for a long moment, relaxing into Sirius once again.

"I hear the fjords are lovely this time of year."

* * *

 

They had arrived in Oslo a week later, dressed for the moderate temperatures of the Norwegian summer. It was cool out, the sun shining bright and a chilled breeze blowing over them as they walked in the park by the waterway. Harry wasn't used to the climate, apparently.

"Pads, I'm cold," whined Harry, clutching onto Sirius' arm. "I thought you said summer was warm." 

"Not here," Sirius answered briefly, biting back a grin. It wasn't really that cold, though he was grateful that he had brought his leather jacket along (he missed wearing it in the summer months). He had known some gloomy London summers to be colder. At least there was sun in Norway.

"It _is_ warm," laughed Remus. "Seventeen degrees! I certainly don't mind it." He wasn't even wearing long sleeves, walking along ahead of them in complete comfort. He always loved the cold. It was the werewolf in him, Sirius reckoned.  

"Moons is a polar bear," whispered Harry, tugging on Sirius' hand.

"A what?" Sirius asked, perplexed. He didn't think he had heard of that before.

" _Polar bear,"_ Harry repeated. "Nev's dad read us a story about them. They live in the cold and pull sleighs for ice mages." His voice was chirping and light

Remus looked over his shoulder and let out a bark of laughter. "Not quite, Harry. I don't think ice mages would like me to pull their sleigh," he said, though his lips set into a grimace. 

Sirius only had a hint of an idea of what could be bothering him. Perhaps the upcoming full moon. He decided to lighten things.

"True," he chuckled, glancing down at Harry. "But if Moons was an animal, I doubt he would be a polar bear." He looked up again to wink at Remus, who had begun walking backwards to face them.

"I dunno, Pads," Remus answered, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not an animagus. We can't know for sure." He smiled as he seemed to intuitively avoid a bicycle riding past him.

"Well, you're not as clumsy as a bear," Sirius retorted, though he supposed Remus had a point. There was no way of knowing what his animagus form might have been if not for the fact that he was a werewolf. 

"Sometimes," Remus replied, and he grinned at Harry. "I trust the boy's judgment. Don't you?"

Harry just giggled. "Moons is a polar bear!" he repeated, letting goof Sirius' hand to latch on to Remus, who spun back around to face forward again. "But what's an an-uh-mag-us?" He spoke slowly, tripping over the word as he went.

"When you're older, we'll tell you," Remus answered immediately. "But for now, I think we should get some lunch. I hear the fish here is excellent!"

Sirius snorted. "Do wolves like fish?"

* * *

 

Harry was fast asleep in the spare bed in the room next to theirs, the blinds shut tight to block the late, black sun. Harry had wanted to stay awake longer, because that was more logical, but the boy was exhausted. Their host had insisted that small children needed more rest anyway.

They had found a friendly old witch who didn't mind housing a wizard couple (Norway seemed to be much more tolerant). She rented them her extra rooms and promised to watch Harry whenever they needed her to.

They weren't sure where to go, but the streets below were still buzzing with life as they watched out the window for the creeping approach of the gloam. They didn't want to stay in their first night, though.

Being so far away from Britain, from Dumbledore, had an air of freedom to it. It was a feeling that they were worried was fleeting, that they wanted to chase after before it slipped from their fingers like water.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed, his feet in covered by hideously pattered red and brown wool socks as he stared at the floor. Sirius was already done lacing up his boots, watching the absent look on his partner's face.

"You alright?" he inquired, crossing his arms.

Remus blinked and his face unfroze. He looked up and said, "Yeah. Fine. Thinking."

"Good, then. You want to get those hideous boats on your feet so we can go?"

"Walking again? Haven't we done that all day?" Remus complained, despite complying and putting on the large, drab shoes.

"Only for a bit. I was thinking of finding a place to go dancing," Sirius answered, a smile turning the corners of his mouth. Now that they were away from home, he was looking forward to a good night of fun.

Besides, he and Remus wouldn't be twenty-six forever. As fun as Harry was, he Sirius was beginning to think that between the war and the child, his youth was being stolen.

Remus finished lacing his shoes and sat up with a surprised expression. "Dancing? Isn't that a bit bold?" he inquired, laughing incredulously. "I mean, where could  _we_ go dancing? Sirius, we don't even know how to dance. Not since the Yule Ball, I mean--"

"Wrong kind of dancing, love," Sirius cut him off with a smirk. "I think there are more  _underground_ places around here I could sniff out."

Remus' eyes widened. "You mean a club? A gay one?" he asked, his cheeks going red. "I don't think that's the best idea, Pads. I mean, I didn't even bring any of the right clothes for that sort of thing." He looked absolutely flustered.

It was more than a little endearing.

"Come on, now, Rem," Sirius insisted. "I'm sure I've got some leather you can borrow." He was growing more amused with this idea as he went along. Both the image of Remus trying to wear Sirius' clothes, or showing up for dancing in one of his own stodgy jumpers, was highly amusing.

"No. No way," Remus answered, standing up. He stopped a few inches away from Sirius, tilting his head down to make eye contact. "Besides. I'm a bit taller than you, aren't I?"

"That's a non-issue. I'm sure you'll look stunning either way." Sirius kept a poker face, trying not to laugh now. He knew the chances of getting Remus anywhere near a club were slim, but it was fun enough trying.

"Come on, Sirius. I've barely been to pubs, let alone a club." He was grinning now, too, apparently in on some joke of his own.

"First time for everything," Sirius insisted, winking and grabbing Remus by the waist.

"Hey!" Remus exclaimed, a bit surprised by the contact. He let out another strange sound, and then began to laugh at himself. Sirius laughed as well, shoving him away towards the wall.

"Fine, then. No clubs. You can wear your ugly clothes. But let's get going!" he exclaimed.

They were very close to holding hands as they walked together, both aware of the more accepting environment and the instinct that told them to keep physical touch to a minimum.

They felt safe, though. Sirius could imagine doing the sort of thing more often.

They didn't walk for long, and decided to sit by the edge of the harbor to watch twilight set in. When the sun was down and the sky had gone purple and grey, they found their way to a small plaza. A few street musicians were playing, and other tourists and locals alike mulled around, looking into shop windows.

Remus stopped right in front of the band, and immediately took Sirius' hand. He shot him a mischievous glance as he said, "You did insist we dance."

Sirius froze as he met his eyes, and then glanced at the performers frantically. The man on the guitar shot him a wink, and the song changed to a slow waltz. He groaned loudly.

"I said not this dancing," he whispered back to Remus, turning away from the band as he glared at him.

"Well, I can dance to this," Remus answered, practically snickering as he pulled a muggle note from his pocket and tossed it at the performers. "So, let's dance."

"You planned this," Sirius grumbled accusingly.

"Chance was just on my side," Remus quipped, placing his hands on Sirius' waist. He began to dance, and Sirius grudgingly went along.

"I can lead, you know."

"I know you can, you posh prat. You gloated nonstop about your dance classes in fourth year. But I'm fairly certain sure I have more experience leading." Remus was smirking devilishly now.

Sirius stiffened, but stopped following along passively in an attempt to prove Remus wrong. He knew what Remus was referring to, of course. 

In fourth year, Lily had refused to go to the Yule Ball with James. In terror, James had insisted Remus ask her so no one more "threatening" would snatch her. Sirius had readily volunteered to be James' date instead (he had been hopelessly in love then) in order to make Lily "jealous."

It hadn't exactly worked. James was terrible at leading, but he wouldn't let Sirius lead instead. Remus had ended up dancing with half the girls in the school, and eventually convinced Lily to dance with James once.

And they hadn't attended any dances after that, in favor of sabotaging them all instead. 

"Just because you haven't seen me lead doesn't mean I can't," Sirius snapped. 

"I saw you lead at James' wedding. With that Ravenclaw girl you had tried dating. Not at all impressive." Remus was terribly smug, and he picked up the pace as he pulled Sirius in a large circle.

"I hate you," Sirius lied.

"You tried to take me to a club," Remus countered.

"So you  _did_ plan this!"

"Just keep dancing with me, Pads," Remus pleaded, whispering in his ear. "It'll make up for all the time we've missed."

Somehow, that melted his spite, and Sirius found it a lot easier to follow along after that.

He didn't have to be the leader if it was with Remus, he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to Norway, but I've heard lots about it and I've always wanted to go. This isn't the first time I've written a story where my characters go to there :P
> 
> Also, I think I want to write a fic about the Yule Ball anecdote. Would you want to read that?


	17. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot of pain on the path that he had been forced to take, but he was fairly certain that things had gone the way they were supposed to. There were so many different places he could have gone, and he was pretty happy where he was. It wasn't too boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the infrequent updates. This is my most subscribed to story, and I feel bad, but I just haven't had the inspiration lately. For "Tongue Like A Serpent" I have the entire plot planned out and it's super exciting and intricate, whereas this is kinda domestic and I just go with the flow... Do you see my problem here??

Their time in Norway came and went, and the summer passed on. Harry had his birthday, the landscape greened and flowered, and the weather went from rainy to sunny however it liked. 

Life went on.

Harry began reading and talking more, and as his vocabulary expanded, he became quite the chatterbox. Play dates with Neville became a bit of a necessity to keep him quiet (and to keep Sirius and Remus sane). This particular morning, they had decided to meet Frank in the park.

The trees were still green, with only a few leaves here and there to change colors. It wasn't cold as much as it was wet, but that particular Sunday, the clouds had decided to separate and offer a glimpse of sunshine. It was a pleasant day, the type for picnics in the park.

As they boys were out running through the grass, chasing after butterflies, the older "boys" were putting together sandwiches at the park table, and chatting about boring adult things. Sirius wished he could transform into Padfoot (or, Snuffles, as his dog form was called around Harry) so he could chase the butterflies as well, but he couldn't do that in a muggle park in front of Frank.

"How's things at the Ministry?" Remus asked curiously, slathering mustard onto his bread.

"Hell if I know," Frank replied, frowning as he took a bite into his food. "Auror things are a bit separate from all the politics. But even then, I'm mostly doing paperwork these days."

Sirius let out a huff of disappointment. "I've been missing your exciting case stories," he confessed. Sometimes, Frank had some horribly misfortunate stories. He seemed to got all the odd jobs.

Frank shrugged. "Heard that a couple of twenty-something year olds got drunk and thought they could try and charm Big Ben into singing 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love." He said it with a wistful chuckle, and the other two joined in.

"Kids these days," Remus murmured.

Sirius was about to agree, and then faltered in realization.

"Moons, Frank-- _we're_ a couple of twenty-something year olds, and look at what we're doing! Being boring," he grumbled, realizing how domesticated he had truly become. "We could be wreaking havoc on London, having fun! And we're sitting in the park eating sandwiches."

"I actually feel quite fortunate you haven't had any altercations with the law," Frank confessed with a grin. "They say they used to joke in the office what hell you'd be once you were  _out_ of Hogwarts; Godric knows what trouble you caused when you were  _in."_

"I know!" Sirius exclaimed, disappointed in himself. "Look at what I've become! I've lost all rights to my reputation."

"To be fair, you've been busy," Remus pointed out, a sparkle in his eye.

"With what? Finding out how many of your shit romance novellas I can read without my brain turning to mush?"

Remus' cheeks flushed pink, and he looked out past Sirius into the park. "With Harry, you twat."

"Oh." Sirius shook his head. "Right."

"Not to mention, it's a bit hard to have fun when you're still heavy with grief," Frank murmured quietly, his face falling. "Nothing's really been the same since the War, has it?"

"No, it hasn't."

The mood had quickly gone from jovial and joking to glum and wistful. They had a moment to contemplate things gone past, the children's laughter echoing through the air in the backround.

Sirius allowed himself a moment to remember James then, how if only  _he_ had raised Harry, maybe Sirius wouldn't be so boring now. Maybe he would have ridden his bike across Europe, or have been the one to  _actually_ get Big Ben to sing Celestina Warbeck songs.

But there was a small voice (that frankly sounded a lot like Remus) that reminded him things might not have gone so well.

He probably never would have fallen properly in love with Remus. They would have drifted apart, with Sirius pursuing a radical lifestyle of partying and adventuring, and Remus might have tried to settle down and find a job. He probably would have continued staying with the Potters.

Until he couldn't have anymore. Would that Sirius have stopped his adventuring to settle down with Remus? Or would Remus have wanted nothing to do with him? The life Sirius might have wanted then was nothing close to what Remus was comfortable with.

He might have even lost himself to drugs and alcohol. Without Remus to push him away from that type of coping, he certainly would have after losing James, or just after his shit life and the war anyway. Then, he definitely wouldn't have a happy ending.

There was a lot of pain on the path that he had been forced to take, but he was fairly certain that things had gone the way they were supposed to. There were so many different places he could have gone, and he was pretty happy where he was. It wasn't too boring.

He was reminded of that as Harry ran up to their table, breaking the silence with heavy breathing and cries of, "Pads! Moons! Pads!" His cheeks were flushed red from running and laughing, and there was a bright and wide smile on his face. 

Sirius got off his brooding seat at the park table and squatted down into the grass. "What is it, lion?" he inquired, ruffling the boy's hair.

"There's a squirrel in the tree over there," Harry explained, his green eyes twinkling. "Can Nev and I catch it?"

Sirius laughed at that, knowing that Padfoot/Snuffles would have definitely assisted in that endeavor.

"A boy after my own heart," he chuckled, not answering the boy's query.

"Absolutely not," Remus cut in, though he was grinning all the same. "It might bite you, and you could get sick. You don't want to get more needles stuck in you, do you?"

Harry's eyes widened, and he went from quizzical from mortified. "No!" he wailed, shaking his head earnestly. Behind him, Neville was watching with an equally terrified expression.

"All the same," Sirius cut in, placing an assuring hand on the child's shoulder, "I bet I can show you how to climb a tree. I don't think you'll be catching any squirrels, though."

Harry smiled, and he looked expectantly at Remus, who rolled his eyes in defeat.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "Have fun with that. And, Sirius, if they get hurt,  _you_ have to deal with it."

Sirius nodded in confirmation, though he swallowed in apprehension. He was terrible with crying children. "I'll make sure nothing happens, for all of our sakes."

"I'll race you there, Pads!" Harry exclaimed. "You too, Neville!" And then he took of running, away from the table.

"Which tree?" Neville called frantically, already trying to stumble after Harry. The poor child was not athletically gifted, and nearly tripped straight off the get-go.

Sirius helped the boy steady himself, and pretended to jog along behind. "You boys are too fast for me!" he called after them. Harry was already at the tree, waiting with an excited (and self-satisfied) smirk on his face.

It reminded him a lot of James, and that made Sirius happy. 

He may have felt domesticated, but he would never be bored. Not with his lion, this miniature Potter that he had been blessed with.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, more on how I keep on having this problem. Harry is only 5 and I have about 5 more years of his life to write about. Any prompts you guys have for me? I would really appreciate it :3  
> And in 2 more "years," there's some plot stuff from Out Like A Snake that will be fun to address.... Not going to spoil this if you haven't read it though!!


	18. Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, Harry is five in this chapter, as well as the last.
> 
> Also, I had no idea how to have them explain gender to Harry considering that this takes place in the 1980s. Sirius and Remus are pretty openminded, but it's not exactly commonplace to have a non-cisgendered approach to that yet, is it?

It was August, the dying month of summer, and they had taken an impromptu trip to the Channel Islands. Sirius had managed to rent a muggle cottage. It was easy for him to get away with last minute occasions like that, considering how eager muggles were to accept gold.

It was a lovely break, and they were all relaxing.

Harry was climbing around in the branches of a low-branched tree. There was a gentle breeze blowing through the air, and not too far away, the sound of the breaking ocean waves could be heard.

Remus and Sirius were sat in the grass, allowing Harry the freedom to have his fun on his own while still keeping an eye on him. He was getting to the age where he wanted to do things independently, but that still didn't mean it was safe.

Not far off, another family was having their own fun by a different cottage. They had two children that were about Harry's age, and they could be heard laughing pleasantly a way off.

"You don't think we should say hi, should we?" Sirius asked, looking over his shoulder. There was a little girl in a bright purple dress, and her brother in blue overalls. From the sound of the parents' accents, they were American.

Remus frowned and gave them a quick look. "I don't know," he said hesitantly.

"Why not?" Sirius asked, pouting a bit. "They're only muggles. And Harry could use a playmate. He can't sit in that tree all day."

"True," Remus said, sighing a bit. "But what if they're homophobic? I'm fairly certain they caught us holding hands before they came over. We can't exactly blow that one off very easily."

Sirius shrugged. "They haven't done anything yet. And we can just tell them we're brothers or something, and Harry's mum left me. We've done it before."

"All this lying will drive us into a pit one day," Remus said dryly, but he was already moving to get up. 

Sirius watched as Remus clambered to his feet and walked over to Harry's tree. Being taller than Sirius, he had an easier job reaching up into it and grabbing Harry. Sirius hadn't been able to do so, though he had lifted the boy three quarters of the way and let the boy climb the rest.

But Remus simply scooped him up with a laugh.

"Come on, little man," he said, hoisting him up. "You've gotten heavy."

"Hi, Moons," Harry answered, wrapping his arms around the mans' neck. "Where are we going? I was in the tree."

"We're going to make some friends." He walked over and prodded Sirius with his foot. "Up, you lazy mutt. This was your idea."

Sirius grinned at him, and got onto his feet as well. He stood a distance away from him, already reciting their backstory in case the muggles questioned their relationship.

Sirius was Harry's father, and his wife had left him with the boy when he was young. The mysterious mother figure would always be the way he explained off Harry's obvious ethnic appearance, from James' Indian descent. The green eyes were a bit harder, considering Sirius had none, but he would always tell people that it "skips a generation."

Remus was the kind step brother, or the old best friend, depending on what their mood was that day. Sirius thought they'd go with the step brother that day, seeing that Remus was carrying Harry like a good uncle might do.

"Hello!" he called, as they approached the family. "May we join you?"

The mother looked away from her husband to smile at them. She had red hair, just like Lily had. 

"Of course. Penny and Jacob would probably love someone else to play with," she answered, looking back at her husband. "I'm Rebecca, and this is my husband, Paul. We're on vacation."

She was definitely American, Sirius decided. 

"Hello," Paul said plainly. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Quite," Remus agreed, setting Harry on the ground. The boy clung close, holding his hand. "Now, Harry, go say hi," Remus urged.

Harry looked up at him with wide eyes, and then stared at the other two children, which were sitting about ten meters away and playing in the grass.

"There's two of them," he whispered. He was always shy around groups of people, it seemed. Especially new groups of people.

Sirius sat on the ground in front of Harry. "It'll be okay. I'm sure they're nice," he promised him. "And we'll be right over here if you get scared. Go on, and maybe you can show them how to climb a tree or two."

"Okay," Harry whispered, and he didn't let go of Harry's hand.

Rebecca had a hand over her mouth, and she was giggling silently. "Don't be shy, sweetie," she told Harry. "My little ones are friendly. But don't climb any trees with them; I wouldn't want them getting hurt."

"Oh." Harry frowned. "They can't climb trees?"

"It's not safe," the woman answered. "Now, go on! They're waiting."

Harry gave Remus and Sirius one last look, and then scampered off to join the other children. Sirius watched with relief as they immediately began to chatter together, and Harry didn't look quite so nervous.

Sirius didn't really pay much attention to the small talk Remus had begun to make with the couple. He was happy just to watch Harry happily interact with the new children.

* * *

Back at the cottage that night, Harry had a thoughtful look on his face. He had been mostly quiet at dinner, but they had been out in public for that (they had decided to visit a small, local restaurant with several other tourists), so it was expected.

Now that they were in the privacy of the cottage, and Harry was looking tired enough for bed, the boy opened up a bit.

"I have a question," he said, crawling onto Remus' lap.

He was sat on the tiny, stiff love-seat that made up most of the cottage's sitting room. Sirius was crammed in next to him, his feet propped up on the small coffee table while he read a muggle sports magazine. He set it down, though, to hear what Harry had to say.

"What's on your mind, lion?" Remus asked, letting Harry get situated.

"Penny's a girl, right?" he asked, frowning in confusion.

"Yes, she is," Remus said hesitantly.

Sirius was no longer paying any attention to the magazine. He was very curious to see where this was going.

"Have I met any girls before?" Harry inquired.

It was an innocent enough question, but it was enough to perplex Remus and Sirius alike.

"Of course you have!" Sirius exclaimed. They may have been isolated, but it wasn't as though Harry hadn't been around  _girls_ before. "You met Mrs. Weasley, and their daughter."

"I don't remember," Harry answered.

"You were very tiny," Remus agreed, his brow furrowing. "You met Ms. Falk when we were in Norway. She was an old girl."

"What's the difference between a boy and a girl, then?" Harry insisted. "You and Pads aren't girls."

"We're not," Sirius agreed, unable to hold back a chuckle.

Remus cleared his throat, and Harry was staring at him attentively, so Sirius decided he would shut up. He wasn't sure how they were going to explain away boys and girls to Harry, when clearly the boy didn't know much in the first place. He hadn't even really met any friends with present mothers, which complicated the issue.

Describing gender to a five year old was not an easy task.

"Girls have different parts from boys," Remus explained slowly. "So girls can be mothers, and boys can be fathers. Lily was your mother, and James was your father."

"And Frank is Nev's father," Harry deduced, nodding along as if he was understanding. "Do you one of each?"

"Well, to be made, you need both," Remus said, wincing a bit. "But you can have two mothers, or two fathers. Kind of like us."

"Oh. Do people usually do that?" Harry asked, leaning forward so he was cuddling into Remus' chest.

Sirius smiled as he watched the scene, knowing where the conversation would lead. He supposed it had to happen eventually.

"What, have two dads?" Remus asked, and Harry nodded in confirmation. "Most people don't, Harry. Most people think that only boys should only love girls, and the other way around. They think that only they should get married, and that boys can't marry boys and girls can't marry girls."

Sirius realized that Harry had only vague understandings of love and marriage and parents, considering his family situation was so unconventional. But he seemed to be following along well enough, so he didn't cut in.

"But you and Pads love each other," Harry pointed out.

"We do," Remus said with a smile. "And it doesn't matter what anyone else says, because we love each other. But the Ministry won't let us get married."

"That's silly," Harry grumbled. "And it's just cause girls look different from boys? Why's that?"

Sirius laughed, but it wasn't very cheerful. He felt a little bitter, to be honest. He had plenty of things to say on the subject, but his five year old boy didn't need to hear him ranting angrily. Remus continued answering.

"It's all really silly, Harry," he said, ruffling Harry's hair. "But we'll let you love whoever you want, and look however you want, because boys and girls really aren't all that different anyway."

Harry yawned and nuzzled closer to Remus. "Okay," he agreed, closing his eyes.

"I think it's off to bed," said Sirius, keeping his voice quiet.

Harry only nodded faintly, keeping his eyes shut.

Remus wrapped his arms around the half-asleep boy and stood off, carrying him off to his bed room. Sirius watched with a smile, deciding that the conversation went a lot smoother than he thought it could have.

 


	19. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new point of view?? Oh my!!

Frank was frazzled, to say the least.

He had forgotten that it was the full moon and that he would have to take Harry for the night. He didn't know why he had forgotten; he had been babysitting for Sirius and Remus for years now. He should have remembered this time around.

Perhaps it had just slipped his mind. After all, the two men had been traveling more often, which meant they were around less to remind Frank of the moon, and often they weren't around for the moon itself.

 _But I still should have remembered,_ Frank chided himself.  _It's practically my job now._

It had been a tough day at work. Despite Sirius' complaints of Frank not having any good work stories, his job as an Auror was stressful. Now that he was more mentally stable, back on his feet, he had picked up the work load. 

It was mostly paperwork, but that was the most stressful part. He didn't mind the field work; it was rarely dangerous. There weren't many active Death Eaters around anymore, after all. A few wannabes, but they were rarely dangerous.

And there was the bit where he had to keep Alice in mind. Visiting her at St. Mungo's was enjoyable, just getting to be in her presence, but often it hurt. This past visit had been particularly painful.

She had started to forget more. She didn't quite remember his face; let alone Neville's. He constantly had to remind her who their little boy was, what he liked doing, when they had him. He was close to giving up (even though he never,  _ever_ would give up on his Alice).

Neville was very good about it. He had Alice's patience, Frank thought. And he was young enough that he didn't get too upset with having to see her. He hoped he never would, either.

But Frank was not taking it so well. Neville could come home and forget about the disheveled state of his mother, because he never knew the real her. When he was older, perhaps he would realize the pain of the situation. But for now, Frank did not want to force it on him.

He tried to remain steady and calm that evening, with Harry running about the house and adding to the noise. Harry was a talkative boy, and while he was always polite, sometimes he could be a bit overbearing. Just loud, really.

At the moment, he was trying to come up with a song to sing with Neville, who couldn't quite get the tune right. This at first would make Harry giggle, but now it was making him frustrated.

With a sigh, Frank set down the journal he was writing in to go and mediate.

"Boys, what's the matter?" he inquired, keeping his voice soft.

"Nothing," Harry answered. "I'm getting Neville to sing."

Neville didn't protest. Frank knew he wouldn't. He was a timid boy, and would always give in to what Harry wanted unless an adult intervened.

"Are you having fun, Neville?" Frank asked, crouching down so he was at his son's level. "Or would you like to do something else?"

"Something else," Neville admitted quietly, hanging his head low.

"No you don't," Harry said, his little face contorting into a frown. "You said you were having fun. Why aren't you having fun?"

Neville looked up at his friend with wide eyes, clearly too scared now to protest.

Frank sighed, and put one hand on either of the boys' shoulders.

"Sometimes, Harry, Neville doesn't want to tell you how he's feeling, because he doesn't want to hurt your fun," Frank explained. He tried not to sound scolding, and he knew he didn't. If there was one thing he was good at, it was remaining gentle. 

"Oh." Harry nodded, and was quiet for a moment. He was always a very receptive boy, and he  _was_ considerate of others, once the matter was brought to attention. He often forgot, though.

"We can color," Neville suggested. "It's quiet."

Frank smiled, and wondered just for a second if Neville hadn't wanted to sing because he had caught onto his father's mood. Frank needed quiet when he was stressed, after all. But Neville was too young to have noticed, wasn't he?

"I like coloring," Harry replied, the frown replaced with a wide smile. "Let's go!"

Frank watched in surprise as Neville took Harry's hand and dragged him off to the other side of the room, where the crayons and paper waited in the "art drawer." He was pleased that his son had taken initiative like that.

Neville wasn't quite  _so_ timid, then. Not around Harry, at least. He had other friends that he would allow to completely boss him around, and then cry for hours after they left.

Like the Weasley children, Frank remembered. Neville had been downright terrified by the hoard of them, and he heard that Harry had felt the same.

Frank returned to his journaling, but was left with thoughts of Harry. He knew the boy to be very shy in public, which was probably something he had picked up from his guardians (and perhaps Dumbledore). There was a risk for them every time they visited the outside world, and even Harry knew that.

But in an empty park, or in a house, Harry was loud and playful. He was safe away from the prying eyes of the world. 

Frank could understand that. But it was sad, he thought, for self-consciousness to be pressed on a little boy so young.

He looked up for a moment to see that the boys were happily coloring now. He could hear that Harry was still humming, but it was much more quiet. He could relax now.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and prayed a silent prayer of gratitude to whatever god there was. It was an everyday ritual of his, and it lulled him to a state of rest.

Sometimes, he thought he was praying to Alice. Only, one could not pray to the living.

The familiar aching pang struck his chest as he wondered if things would have been easier if Alice had been allowed the peace of death instead of living decay. Or if Frank could have disappeared into the living dream world with her.

Because, to the outside world, it was clear that Alice was deteriorating. She was not the intelligent, humorous, and lively woman she had once been. But she was happy, because she did not know what she was like to the outside world.

She lived in her own world, her own little bubble. She was happy most of the time, but he knew that part of the real Alice was still in there, niggling her way through her mind to try and reach the surface. That part of Alice could feel the pain.

He was sure it was that Alice who had the nightmares.

She had once been more present, in the beginning. When she had first arrived at St. Mungo's, she still responded to her name, still could answer his questions. But there was so much  _pain_ in her eyes.

The last words she had said to him in her lucid state had been painful.

"I just want it all to go away."

And then it had. She had slipped into comatose for a week, and when she had woken up, her eyes were glassy. But bright. And she began to smile more.

She had forgotten the pain.

Frank was not so lucky. He never told his friends all this, of course, because he didn't want to be a burden. And he certainly didn't tell his son. But he told his mind healer, and his journal, and his strange old mother, if she ever bothered to listen.

He was loved, and he felt lucky to have his life at all. 

He decided he couldn't stay awake with those thoughts much longer. It was only half seven, but he would let the boys color a bit longer before putting them to bed. Perhaps he would read them a story.

And then he could drift off to sleep, and he would dream of Alice, and the pain of the day would melt away. 

It was just one bad day, he told himself. He would be fine in the morning.

He always was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I hadn't intended this one to be so sad :(


	20. Memory Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius felt something clench in his chest. He always felt so regretful, keeping Harry from the world. It was a beautiful place, but Harry could only see it from the outside in. 
> 
> Maybe the boy was lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updates have been sparse. The logic board on my laptop broke so I've been phone-typing again. It's a rough life :p also have been busy celebrating my birthday *unsubtle nudging*

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, skipping around in circles. They were in the living room, looking for the Floo Powder. 

"Shopping," Sirius answered. "Diagon Alley."

Harry stopped skipping. "I thought we didn't go there," he said, his eyes widening. "Bad people are there, aren't they?"

Remus stopped searching under the sofa and turned around to answer the boy. 

"Not bad people," he said. "Just people."

"If they're not bad, then why do we have to hide from them?"

Sirius froze, and turned around and crossed his arms. "We don't hide, Harry."

"Yes, we do," the boy insisted, turning his head to look up with a pout. "We take icky potions that make us look funny. And we don't go places with magic. And I don't get to say that you're my da's. Dumbl'dore says so."

Unwilling to answer, Sirius bit his lip and looked pointedly at Remus.

When Remus didn't say anything, Harry sighed. "Why?" he demanded, his voice pitched high.

Remus pulled a face and cricked his neck. "Harry, you know why," he murmured, crouching down to be at his level. "You're special. And we have to protect you."

Harry's hand moved to his scar. "Because I made the bad guy disappear."

"Yeah," Remus answered, taking Harry's hand. "And people love you for that. But some people aren't so nice."

"But you'll protect me!" Harry insisted. 

"Of course we will." Remus' voice was soft now. "But we have to do what Dumbledore says, or he might take you away. We already break enough rules, so we have to hide to keep him happy."

Harry just huffed. "Okay."

Sirius felt something clench in his chest. He always felt so regretful, keeping Harry from the world. It was a beautiful place, but Harry could only see it from the outside in. 

Maybe the boy was lonely. But there was nothing they could do with Dumbledore around. 

"Come on, loves," he said, his voice cracking. "Let's go."

"Find the powder?" Remus asked, standing up and half-smiling.

"Oh." Sirius patted at the pockets of his robes for his wand. "No. I could just _accio_ it." 

Remus rolled his eyes. "Hopefully you don't break anything this time. I've got the polyjuice." He pulled a vial out of his pocket. "Here you go, Harry. Just a swallow."

As Harry groaned in protest, Sirius summoned the Floo Powder. It flew out from behind the log next to the fire, smacking loudly into Sirius' hand. 

"Got it," he said. "Hit me up, Remus."

The potion was foul, just like his mood. He didn't want to go anywhere then, but they had to get some potions supplies for Remus, as well as some new books. They didn't want to ask Frank for another behavior. 

Besides, some of the ingredients weren't things you would want to ask an auror for. 

* * *

"Here's the plan," Sirius whispered, dragging Remus by the hand towards the bookstore. "You take Harry for the books, and wait for me at Fortescue's. I'll go get the ingredients."

Remus stopped walking and threw him an astonished look. "You want to go into Knockturn? Alone? No fucking way, Sirius."

"Moons? Why are you angry?" Harry asked. He was holding Remus' hand as well, and was sporting a head of blond curls. 

"Moons isn't angry," Sirius lied, though he could understand why he was. 

Remus, as usual, had to polyjuice as a woman for the short trip. He was better at feigning the high-pitched voice. That was enough for resentment. It didn't help that Sirius was asking to leave for Knockturn alone. 

"Listen, I know the potion theory, you don't. We go to Knockturn together," Remus insisted, keeping his voice lower than a breath.

"No! We can't take Harry," Sirius replied. "Besides. I know my way around Knockturn better than you do. Creepy Dark parents, remember?"

"Is something the matter? Are you lost?"

Both Remus and Sirius turned at once to be faced with Auror Frank Longbottom.

"We're fine," Remus answered, keeping his voice in a breathy falsetto. "Just a bit lost, actually. Well, my husnand is. I know what I'm doing, but men just can't seem to take directions!"

Sirius bit his lip and shot Remus a glare, but was ignored. 

"Hi!" Harry exclaimed, letting go of Remus' hand, looking as though he were about to hug Frank. 

"Er, hi?" Frank laughed nervously. "I've got a little one about your size."

"Jamie!" Sirius barked, saying the first name that came to mind. "No hugging strangers."

Harry gaped for a moment, but Frank smiled awkwardly, his cheeks flushed red.

"It's fine. I'll just be going." He pushed on past, without another word.

Sirius heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed that Frank's social awkwardness was their saving grace.

"Harry, you can't tell Neville or Frank about this," Remus whispered, pulling him in close.

"Why not?" Harry asked, looking concerned.

"Because Pads and I need to get some special things to make me better," Remus whispered, "and no one can know."

Harry frowned. "Why do you need to get better?"

"Too many big questions for one day, lion," Sirius interrupted. "Now, I'll meet you at Fortescue's."

He slipped away before Remus could protest.

* * *

Knockturn Alley was just as shady as Sirius remembered it. Anxiety fluttered against his ribcage as he passed old, familiar shops. He clutched to the list Remus had written like a lifeline. 

On that list were several very illegal ingredients that, according to  an old tome Dumbledore had slipped them, might be able to help with Remus' lycanthropy. 

He wasn't sure why Dumbledore had given it to them, or if it had been Dumbledore at all. It had appeared on their doorstep weeks before, and anything on their doorstep was bound to be from the headmaster. 

So, after weeks of pondering and reading over the old thing, Remus had found the passage regarding the (theorhetical) cure for lycantrophy. He had decided they needed to try it out. 

The only problem was that the ingredients were very obscure and very regulated. 

And that was why Sirius was back in Knockturn Alley for the first time in a very long time. 

He spotted a very familiar old shop-- Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary. Sirius remembered Orion had taken them many times when they were younger, and in their teen years, Regulus had dragged him there during the summers. 

Ah, Regulus. He had been a strange boy. More interested in his Dark potions than friends. 

More interested in his Dark friends than Sirius, too. No wonder he was a Slytherin, Sirius thought bitterly.

Sirius stepped hesitantly into the shop. It was quiet and dim, though his feet squeaked on the floorboards. It smelled very familiar, and for a moment it took him back in time. 

_"You can't seriously need dragon toes," Sirius whispered. "Why would you need dragon toes?"_

_"You don't understand," Regulus mumbled, his eyes shining as he reached his hand into the bag. "What I'm working on will be revolutionary, I swear!"_

_"And who's it for, Reg?" Sirius hissed, suddenly becoming hostile. "Voldemort? Because you've been hanging with a nasty crowd lately."_

_"Don't say his name!" Regulus dropped his bag. "And it's you who's with the nasty crowd, Sirius. Mother and Father will be proud of me!"_

_"What's their pride good for? They'rw awful people." Sirius shook his head. "You know what? I'm out of here. I can't put up with this shit."_

_He turned heel and left the shop._

_Three weeks later, Sirius was disowned for "homosexual activity" and "disgracing the family legacy" when he spoke up against his mother._

"You!" a voice hissed, snapping Sirius back into reality.

"Me?" Sirius asked, spinning to face the source of the voice.

It was Mr. Mulpepper himself, a wrinkled old man with a permanent scowl on his face. He was leaning against an old shelf that was covered in various teeth and claws.

"Yes," he murmured, shaking his head. "I know a Black when I see one. Can feel your magic from a mile away."

Sirius swallowed nervously. "Just look at me," he laughed. "I look nothing like a Black."

"Ha." Mulpepper stood up straight. "I've been blind for nine years, Black. Can't see your face. But I can feel your magic, smell the polyjuice on you."

Sirius didn't say anything. He clutched the list in his hand, praying to Godric and Merlin for peace and safety. 

"So, whaddya want? All of you are dead or in jail--save for the Light ones. So. Are you Sirius? Because you sure as hell can't be Andromeda." Mulpepper was smirking, tapping his fingers against his leg.

"I need some ingredients," Sirius answered evasively. "That's all that matters."

Mulpepper laughed. "Funny you should be here, really," he continued, acting as if Sirius had said nothing at all. "No one comes here much. All the bad ones are either dead or in Azkaban. Or switched sides, like Malfoy." 

Sirius couldn't help but let out a surprised noise. Malfoy had switched sides. 

"Oh-ho," Mulpepper laughed. "Black, are you living under a rock? Must be in hiding if you didn't know that." He moved a little closer, so that Sirius could smell his breath. "Or you're just a dumb Light sheep, thinking that no Dark wizard can go Light. Just 'cause we're Dark don't mean we're bad. I mean, look at me!" He chuckled again and began moving his hand over the claws on the shelf. 

"You're all the same," Sirius hissed, clenching his fist tighter around the parchment.

Mulpepper sighed and picked up a large, triangular tooth. He ran his thumb over it thoughtfully.

"You getting any ingredients or not."

Sirius bit his lip and thrusted the list into the elder's hands. 

"I can't read this, Black. I'm blind."

Sirius sighed and snatched the list back. He began to read off the list of abominable ingredients. He just wanted to go home. 

* * *

Back at Godric's Hollow, Sirius didn't tell Remus anything about the encounter. He gave him the ingredients and let him get to work while he set on feeding and entertaining Harry. 

The boy helped cook dinner, excitedly singing a song he was making up. Sirius didn't pay much attention. He was too deep in thought. 

 _They're all bad,_ he thought to himself. _Malfoy didn't turn good. He's just pretending. Lying._  

Remus would have disapproved of such black and white thinking, but Sirius didn't care. Remus hadn't seen Dark up close, lived in it for years and years. There was one good way of living, and it included nothing Dark. 

Of course, in the early days, Sirius had heard talk of Malfoy switching sides. But he had actually stuck to it? Stopped going to Knockturn, even?

No, he must have been getting his supplies secretly. That was all. 

After he put Harry to bed, Sirius had trouble sleeping. He couldn't relax with the smell of Dark potions filling his home. 

He hoped it was worth it. He hoped Remus felt better. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was googling my username and found some really sweet fanart by klarogasms on Instagram and I just wanted to say it warmed my heart.  
> So, if you're reading this, klarogasms, thank you and I hope you got my anon on tumblr! I really need to make a side blog for my fanfic stuff....


	21. The Potion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was just tired. Tired of worrying about hurting his loved ones, tired of having to hide from society in the fear of being ostracized. He wanted to do something instead of being cooped up in Godric's Hollow. 
> 
> Maybe he was depressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another perspective change??? *GASp*

Remus had been working on the potion for a week. His head was swimming from the fumes and his back was beginning to ache from all the bending over the cauldron. He was so tired that he had accidentally slipped and cut his fingers a few times.

But honestly, what was a few more scars compared to the hundreds covering his body because of his lycanthropy?  

"Remus," said a quiet voice from behind him.

He startled a little bit, turning his head to look at Sirius. "Coming to tell me to take a break again?"

"No," Sirius answered, leaning in the door way and watching with a pensive frown. "I can't tell you not to work. This obviously matters a lot to you."

"It does," Remus confirmed. "I never thought I would actually use potions outside of school."

"What do you know." Sirius' laugh was empty. "Do you think it will help?"

"Of course," Remus answered quickly. "Though, I doubt there's a cure... but this might make transformations easier. I'll be less likely to hurt myself. Or others."

"I trust you," Sirius answered. "But Harry and I are worried. I know both of us are likely to slip into depression from time to time, and--"

"I'm not depressed," Remus cut him off, hastily throwing in a chopped handful of midnight bog leaves. "I'm working on something useful. Would a depressed person be this productive?" 

"Moons," Sirius pleaded. "You're not taking care of yourself."

"I am taking care of myself!" Remus shouted. He slammed his fist into the wall. "Dammit, Sirius! Let me do this! This could save me, and countless others. Don't you understand?"

"It doesn't have to be you!" Sirius protested. "Someone else could work on this!"

"What? You don't think I can do it?"

"I'm worried about what might happen if you fail!"

Remus froze, unable to come up with a response. He felt his head throbbing, and realized how loud they had beens shouting. 

"The full moon is next week," he muttered. 

"You can't expect to do in the next week what people haven't been able to complete in the past five centuries," Sirius reminded him quietly.

"I know. I'm just... Maybe I'm not thinking straight," Remus admitted. 

"Yeah?" Sirius laughed, seeming a little relieved and a little bitter. 

"Yeah," Remus agreed, shaking his head. He turned around to look at the bubbling cauldron of foul potion, black and purple and thick. "I'll owl Dumbledore and ask him about the tome. This could be some sort of trick."

"I hope not," Sirius murmured, slinking up behind Remus to wrap him in a hug. "I wouldn't want any Dark magic addling our brains."

"No," Remus whispered, glancing at the tome. He couldn't imagine how human spine was supposed to be beneficial to his condition anyway. 

From behind them, small, hestiant footsteps sounded in the hallway. 

"Is it okay?" Harry asked, nervous and timid. 

Remus spun around, immediately regretful. All this time, he hadn't been thinkng of Harry. He had been obsessing about the potion, something he was hardly qualified to work on. 

He was just tired. Tired of worrying about hurting his loved ones, tired of having to hide from society in the fear of being ostracized. He wanted to do something instead of being cooped up in Godric's Hollow. 

Maybe he was depressed. 

"Yeah, it's okay, Lion," he promised, scooping his honorary son into a hug. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," Harry muttered into his ear. "But will you get rid if the icky stuff? I don't like it."

"That's a good boy," Sirius laughed. "You can smell out the Dark stuff, can't you?"

Harry just giggled and clung onto Remus tighter. 

"Why d'you need it, anyway?" Harry inquired, burying his face into Remus' neck. "I missed my Moony."

Remus cringed internally, realizing he had been keeping Harry in the dark and letting him down. Just a week without his constant presence, and Harry was saddened. 

Remus couldn't imagine giving up months or years to working on the cure. That would be too painful. 

"Maybe we need to talk, Harry," he said quietly. "I think you're big enough to know why I get sick so often."

"Okay." Harry didn't let go. 

Sirius didn't question Remus' decision, either, and they all walked out onto the porch. 

It was partly cloudy out, and a little cool, so they all huddled together on the bench. 

"Story time?" Harry asked. 

Remus just had to laugh. Of course Harry would want it to be a story. 

"Alright, Lion. Story time."

"Can I help, too?" Sirius asked, making a mock pout face. 

"Of course," Remus assured him with a wink. "But I go first."

Harry settled himself on Remus' lap and listened patiently. 

"Every month, the moon changes shape. That's because it spins in a circle as it moves around the Earth," Remus explained.

"You told me that before," Harry said. "We have the moon painting that shows it!" He was, of course, referring to the painting that Sirius had given Remus years ago. Like most magical portraits, it moved. This one moved to mimick the moon's current phase so Remus could keep track (but not that he needed to, after all these years).

"No interrupting stories, Harry," Sirius chided. 

Harry stuck his tongue out at him. 

Remus chuckled at the antics. "Anyway," he continued, elongating the word, "the moon also has magic in it, just like you and me and Pads. The trees have magic too, and the sky, and the grass, and the animals."

"But muggles don't," Harry pointed out. 

This was normal of Harry during story time. He wasn't one to stay quiet much. 

"They have some," Remus answered. "On the inside. They just don't have the right stuff to be able to use it."

"Oh." Harry nodded in some comprehension. 

"Anyway," Remus said again, unable to supress his smile, "the moon has stronger magic when it's full. When it's biggest."

"And that's when you get sick," inferred Harry. "Does that mean moon magic is bad? Will moon magic make me sick when I'm big?"

"Slow down there, lightning," Sirius interrupted. "You're a smart boy, so don't think too fast, or you might scare yourself."

"Moon magic won't hurt you," Remus promised him. "In fact, some people say that moon magic is a beautiful thing, and they make beautiful spells and creations with it."

"But isn't that Dark?" Sirius cut in, with a bit of a frown. 

"Doesn't mean it's bad or ugly," Remus shot back, unwilling to have that argument again (and especially not in front of Harry).

Harry poked Remus in the chest. "Then why's it bad for you?"

Remus frowned. "I guess you could say I'm allergic to the moon, Harry. I'm okay when it's a crescent, I mean, when there's not that much, but a lot of it makes me sick."

"What's allergic?" Harry inquired.

"Means your body doesn't like it," Sirius explained. "Like how I can't eat oranges or lemons, or like Moons can't eat anything spicy." He smirked with the last bit.

Remus was about to protest to the "spicy" dig, but he didn't want to confuse the boy. 

"So, the moon makes me very sick and upset, so I have to go away until the magic leaves. And I was trying to make a potion to protect me from the magic."

"Oh," said Harry. "I'm sorry for telling you to get rid of it. I want you to get better."

"It's alright, Harry," Remus assured him, patting him on the head. "I don't think it would have worked. I think it was given to us by the bad people."

He didn't want to think about how that might have happened, though.

"I thought you said they weren't bad," Harry murmured, twisting around to look him in the eye.

"Not anyone you've met is bad, Harry," Sirius replied, frowning. "Dumbledore's made sure of that."

"And the book wasn't from him. I can tell that now," Remus said to Sirius. "He's not the type to endorse anything Dark, is he?"

"No," Sirius muttered.

Harry tugged on Remus' shirt. "But you'll be okay, right? You'll feel better?"

"I'll be okay," Remus promised, forcing a smile. "You just have to keep going to Neville's on the full moons, okay? And you can't tell anyone about my moon sickness."

"Not even Neville?"

"No, not even Neville," Remus sighed. It was hard enough explaining it to one little boy. He didn't want to put that burden on Frank.

Harry;s face scrunched up in a frown, and he crawled off of Remus' lap, settling himself on the boards of the porch.

"Do I have to go to Neville's during the moon forever?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Of course not!" Sirius exclaimed with a nervous laugh. "Why? I thought you liked Neville!"

Harry sighed and flicked his big green eyes up at them. "Sure," he said. "But I'm bored. Can't I make new friends?"

Remus wasn't sure if he was relieved for the change of conversation or if he was worried his boy was unsatisfied with something. Hesitantly, he said, "Of course you can, lion. But what's wrong with the friends you have?"

"Neville's kinda boring," Harry grumbled, picking at a thread on his pants. "He hasn't done any magic at all yet, and he never wants to play the games I like to play. We just sit around and read. He doesn't like my stories."

Remus bit his lip, wishing Harry had said something sooner. There wasn't really anything he could do, anyway. He and Frank were friends, and Neville was a good influence from a good family. 

And Dumbledore approved.

"Well, what about your other friends?" he asked, though it was a ridiculous question. Harry's only other friends were from far away countries that they met on their travels, and he rarely saw any of them more than once.

Harry just grunted. 

"Neville's a good boy, you know," Sirius offered, though it sounded meager. "You'll be grateful to have a friend like him one day. He's loyal. And you two will be in Gryffindor together!" 

Harry shrugged and smiled weakly. "Maybe, yeah."

That wasn't the answer either of them had been expecting.

"Let's go make some tea," Remus suggested, slightly unnerved. Cinnamon tea always cheered up the mood. 

It was getting a little cold out, anyway, and the sun was going down. Harry's bed time would be in an hour, and Remus feared he and Sirius would have plenty to talk about that evening. 

It would be fine, he told himself. They had nothing to worry about.

Not with Harry, at least.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think we've got a couple more chapters left until this catches up with the timeline in The House Wins!! Exciting stuff.  
> I felt really bad about Neville, but I have to stick to the story line I've created. Sweet little Neville. And Frank. They'll get a comeback, eventually. They're good people.
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who's supported this story so far!! All of your feedback and positive reactions have really kept me going. I'm amazed by how well received this story has been, and I hope I've been able to keep you all satisfied with the plot and characters!!!


	22. A Proposition

Harry was six years old, and if you would have asked him, he would have told you that he owned the world.

Sirius had never meant to imprint this mindset on him, and it wasn't as if the boy were narcissistic about it anyway. It just had ended up happening. The more that they traveled, the more places that Harry seemed to consider home.

Home became the cottage in the Channel Islands, where they spent a month in the end of summer. Home became the boat that they slept on for a week when they re-visited Greece. Home became Neville's house on the full moons. Home became anywhere they were offered a place to sleep and people to talk to.

Home was where his family was, and that was what mattered.

"I hope we're making him happy," Sirius said aloud one night. He and Remus were sitting outside, enjoying the cool evening. Harry was fast asleep inside, at peace after a long day.

"We do what we can," murmured Remus, moving in closer against his partner. "Might be a bit lonely, but he's a happy kid."

"Do you think he's really lonely?" Sirius asked, suddenly nervous. He wouldn't know what it was like. Growing up, of course he hated his family, but he had Regulus. He barely remembered that part of his life, to be honest. He mostly clung onto the short years at Hogwarts.

It blew his mind to think he had spent almost as long with little Harry as he had spent at Hogwarts.

"I don't know," Remus admitted. "I know I was when I was his age. Mum and Da didn't let me spend much time around other kids...." He trailed off with a sigh. "But Harry's got us. And he's made a few friends abroad. And he's still got Neville."

Sirius chuckled. "And he certainly gets along with every adult we introduce him to. Might be shy at first, but he loves talking."

"He's a smart boy," Remus laughed.

"Thanks to you," Sirius teased. "But still. Should we try to find him another friend?"

"Who?" Remus scoffed. "He doesn't like the Weasleys. _We_ don't like the Weasleys! Who else would Dumbledore approve of?"

"Maybe a muggle child," Sirius answered, suppressing the groan that always seemed to form in the back of his throat when Dumbledore was brought up.

"Maybe," Remus said quietly. "We'll see."

* * *

 

Dumbledore arrived late in the afternoon on a Sunday, one week later.

It was part of his regular check up on them. He would come once or twice a month, and every time he would check to make sure Harry was "on the right path," and that Remus and Sirius were continuing to be adequate parents. He would always claim he would have to visit less if they just committed to one of his oaths.

Sirius was often tempted to agree, just to get him out of their hair, but was also afraid that they would lose their freedom. Not signing the contract was what permitted them to go where they wanted and live how they wanted, but there were still rules.

Dumbledore, while he had no magical control over them, held plenty of political and social power. And if they wanted to stay secure, they had to agree to most of his requests.

And he liked to remind them of that on his visits.

"I see you are still living comfortably," he remarked, having settled himself on their sofa. "I smell Dark magic, though... I presume that is from the potion you wrote me of, Remus."

"Yes, sir," Remus replied. "Sorry about that. We didn't know."

"You would have if you signed the contract," Dumbledore sighed. "You know it's only to protect you."

"We're quite capable of protecting ourselves," Sirius growled.

"Clearly." Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "Which is why you thought you had to resort to illegal potion making to aid Remus' dilemma."

"What's a dil-emma?" Harry asked, who was sitting balanced on Sirius' knee.

"My moon sickness, Harry," Remus said quickly, without breaking eye contact with the headmaster. 

Sirius just clutched onto Harry, stroking his back occasionally. He tried to focus on keeping calm, and how grateful he should be to Dumbledore. After all, they were never bothered by the Ministry about Remus being a werewolf, and the press never was able to find them. 

"Ah. So you told him?" asked Dumbledore, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Yes," Remus replied, his face gone taut. "He's old enough, don't you think?"

"Of course," Dumbledore murmured. "You're a smart boy, aren't you Harry? Is there anything else you want to learn about?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "I want to learn how to use my magic! I made the pot stir itself yesterday. On accident, though."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Of course. That will have to wait. Power cannot be in the hands of ones so young, you know..." He shook his head bitterly, as if thinking about another child from long ago. "I meant in regards of your parents. James and Lily."

Sirius bit his lip. "I think he knows all he needs to," he said shortly.

"Perhaps about Voldemort, Harry? There's lots of bad people out there who want to hurt you. Perhaps I should teach you what to avoid," Dumbledore said, leaning forward. His lips twisted into a smile, and once again, his eyes twinkled strangely.

"Pads said I don't ever see the bad people," Harry replied. "They can't hurt me, can they?"

"Of course they can," Dumbledore scoffed. "But you mustn't let that scare you, Harry. You have me protecting you. And I will show the people you can trust. I am your mentor. Teacher."

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. He had always assumed, of course, that Dumbledore would want to teach Harry, and become close with him. But Sirius had never wanted that to happen, even though he himself had received that kind of attention when he was young from the man. 

He just didn't trust the professor anymore. Sometimes, he thought the war had corrupted him. But he was still Headmaster of Hogwarts, and he supposed he would have little choice over whether or not Dumbledore was close with Harry.

But not yet. He wouldn't let him come close just yet.

Remus cleared his throat. "About that," he said, in way of shifting the subject. "Harry was thinking of finding another friend. Perhaps you could help us with that?"

Dumbledore sat up, and his eyes lit again. "I'm so glad you decided to ask me," he laughed. "I was beginning to think you didn't trust my judgment." 

Of course they didn't. They only listened when they absolutely had to. Sirius was about to make a rude retort, but he held back.

"We know you must have plenty of connections with children his age," Remus said with a smile, "and we're just so fortunate to have you as a resource. Do you know anyone?"

"I think I might," he admitted. "There's a very loyal family I've been working closely with. I think they might be a good influence for both you and Harry."

Sirius swallowed, still biting his tongue. Anyone who Dumbledore considered loyal was probably another one of his leashed dogs, tied to a contract. Maybe he was hoping this family would persuade them to make a contract, too.

Harry was still silent, watching Dumbledore attentively with wide eyes.

"Who do you have in mind?" Remus inquired. "Because you know we don't really get along with the Weasleys."

"Of course," Dumbledore laughed. "Well, Harry, the boy's name is Draco."

Harry tilted his head. "Draco? Is he nice?"

Sirius frowned. Forced astronomy lessons from his childhood came rushing back to him, and he remembered that Draco was a constellation.

Not many families named their children after stars. Especially not Light families. In fact, the only people that came to mind was his cousin Andromeda, but she would have written him if she had another child after Nymphadora....

He couldn't imagine who Dumbledore was suggesting.

"He's a very nice boy, Harry," the Headmaster said. "Clever, too, like you. His father works at the Ministry and is a good man now. With my help, of course."

Harry nodded as if he understood. "So, can Draco be my friend?"

"If your guardians approve," Dumbledore replied. More forcefully, he added, "And I would like to suggest that they do."

Remus sighed. "Who're the parents?"

"Yeah," Sirius added. "Do we know them?"

"I'm sure you do," Dumbledore replied. "You especially, Sirius. I'm sure you both remember Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?"

_Malfoy._

_Dirty, slimy, Death Eater snake._

Sirius didn't know what to say or do, besides think that the old goat had finally properly lost it. The Malfoys were Dark. Bad. Slytherins. How could Dumbledore possibly allow them to influence Harry?

"Have you gone insane?" Sirius demanded. He would have stood if Harry wasn't weighing down his lap.

"No, Sirius. I assure you I am just as sane as I have always been." Dumbledore pushed up his glasses again and chuckled. "Which, I suppose, has never been entirely sane. But my judgment has not gone awry, if that's what you're implying."

Remus shook his head. "No, sir," he said. "Not the Malfoys.They were Death Eaters. We fought them. They killed our friends."

"Narcissa did not. And neither did Draco. They are good people." 

"And Lucius?" Sirius spat, unable to believe that he would ever hear "good" and "Malfoy" in the same sentence, and let alone from Dumbledore, champion of the Light.

"He has sworn off all Dark magic and has devoted the past five years to bettering himself," Dumbledore said cooly. "And, besides, he has signed a contract, and has remained loyal."

"Because he as no other choice?" Sirius asked, scoffing.

Remus let out a long sigh. "I trust your judgment, Professor."

"What?" shrieked Sirius. 

Harry jumped just a bit.

"Thank you, Remus." Dumbledore gave him a chilled smile, and turned a livid gaze to Sirius. "And you should follow your partner's lead sometime, Sirius. It would do you both some good."

"I'm not signing a bloody contract," Sirius growled. 

Harry squirmed off of his lap and darted out of the room, sensing Adult Talk.

"I never asked you to," Dumbledore replied, watching closely as Harry ran into the hallway. "Though, after meeting Lucius, perhaps you will change your mind. After all, his life has improved for the better."

"Are you comparing me to that son of a bitch?" Sirius demanded. "You think I need that kind of guardianship? Let me tell you, Albus--I never killed anyone! I don't _need_ your fucking contract, okay?"

"Sirius--"

"Moons, I've got this. Let me--"

"Sirius, stop!" Remus exclaimed. 

Dumbledore did not say anything. He simply leaned back, folded his hands on his lap, and watched.

Sirius bit his lip and tried to slow his breathing, tried to calm himself. 

"Pads. Do this for Harry," Remus urged, reaching over to place a hand on his knee. "He's not asking anything huge of us, okay?"

"No," Sirius whispered, grabbing his hand. "You think this is good for Harry? Introducing him to those scumbags?"

"Their son is Harry's age. He can't be scum."

"Moons, you're more uptight than me about  _everything._ And the one thing I want to say no to, you're encouraging?"

"We'll talk about this later." Remus closed his eyes and turned his head to look at Dumbledore. "When do you want us to go see them?"

Dumbledore smiled calmly, pleased to be acknowledged again. "The boy has a birthday coming up in a few weeks. Why don't you stop by then?"

Sirius grimaced but didn't say anything.

"We'll be there," Remus said.

"Good." Dumbledore stood up and brushed his hands on his robe. "Isn't this exciting? A new friend for Harry. And Sirius--you'll get to reunite with your cousin!"

And then he Apparated away.

Sirius had no words. He was mostly frustrated. And confused.

And pissed.

"I'm going to take the motorcycle out. It deserves some love, don't you think?"

"Sirius--"

"Not now. I'll just be upset. Let me clear my head, okay?"

"Okay." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updates have been sparse. Kinda going through a rough time. Having to move, not being able to live with my parents, finding a new school and ppl to live with, losing all my friends... Fun stuff like that.  
> Please tell me being an adult is easier than this :( my teenage years have been the bane of my existence so far


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me 20 days to write this chapter?????? I'm so sorry!!

"We have to wear dress robes."

"Sirius. It's a play date. We don't need dress robes!"

"This is my cousin we're talking about. And it's a birthday party, no less. We have to be snazzed to the max."

"Snazzed to the max?"

"Yes, Remus. Snazzed to the max."

Remus began chuckling, and Sirius rolled his eyes as he buttoned up his shirt. He couldn't remember when the last time was that he actually dressed up for something, but it was probably boring and insufferable.

This, he assumed, would be no different. Tight lipped smiles and straight postures and bitter tea. Maybe stiff discussion about books and goblin history. That was all he could imagine making conversation about.

He didn't even know how he was supposed to look at Lucius "the Death Eater" Malfoy without attacking him or vomiting. He would just have to pretend he wasn't there.

"Do I own any dress robes?" Remus asked, peering into the wardrobe. "I can't remember."

"Yes, you do," Sirius said, exasperated. "I bought you a pair for Christmas. Three years ago."

"Oh." Remus frowned and sifted through the clothes and found them. "Er, why?"

"Because they look nice," Sirius replied.

Remus just pulled them out and raised an eyebrow, holding them over himself. They were a dark brown, almost a black. 

"Look. I'm still vain, okay? And part of my natural vanity includes wizarding fashion. And I tried to extend that onto you. Now, try them on," Sirius ordered, waving a hand at him.

"Well, what's Harry going to wear?" Remus asked, resigning to putting on the robe.

"Erm...."

"Me?" Harry asked, poking his head from behind the door.

"How long have you been there, little lightning?" Sirius asked, chuckling.

Harry didn't move any further, so they only saw his head. His hair was sticking up in all directions, as per usual, and his cheeks were bright pink.

"A minute?" Harry asked, grinning. There was a visible gap in his lower teeth, and his two big teeth were both starting to go lose.

"Get in here, lion," Remus grumbled. "We need to fix your hair."

"Noo!" Harry cried, and darted away. As he ran into another part of the house, they could hear him shouting, "I like my hair!" 

Sirius shook his head and laughed. He might not have been thrilled about seeing Narcissa and her maggot of a husband, but Harry would make things alright. He was a delight, after all.

"I'll go get him," he said. After all, he was better with unruly hair than Remus was. He still wore his long.

He found Harry hiding behind the sofa, giggling madly.

"Hmm. Where's Harry?" Sirius asked, spinning in a full circle. "Under the coffee table?"

Harry giggled very loudly.

"Uh oh. I think I hear something. I bet he's in the kitchen!"

"No!" Harry cried. "Not the kitchen."

"Hmm. Are the fairies talking to me? Am I hearing things!"

"Pads!" Harry wailed, jumping out from behind the sofa. "Stop it, Pads. I'm not a fairy."

"Oh, I guess you're not. You're a six year old--oh."

He saw why Harry had not stepped into the room. And why he had been hiding.

"Well, you're certainly magic like a fairy," he muttered, crouching down to look the boy over. "What happened? You're covered in colors."

Indeed, from the shoulders down, Harry's clothes looked like they had been tie-dyed over. It seemed that his magic seemed to prefer vibrant colors over any other kind of manifestation. He was mostly green, notably.

"I got excited," Harry murmured, lowering his head. "Sorry, Pads. I tried to dress myself and it got all colorful again."

"Well, it's nice you match your walls, but I don't think the Malfoys would understand. Let's clean you up, okay? Dumbledore should be over in an hour." He patted Harry on the head and picked him up, carrying him back to his room to get changed.

Hopefully, the colors didn't get on his skin. Sirius still hadn't found a counter spell for the color splatters on his walls. 

* * *

Dumbledore arrived on time. He had a strange air of cheer to him, and it made Sirius feel off. Part of him worried that this was some sort of evil scheme, and another part of him only worried that the Malfoys were the evil ones.

Honestly, he couldn't believe that Dumbledore was suggesting this, or that both he and Remus had eventually agreed. Poor Harry didn't know any better, and was as happy as a clam.

"Good morning, Professor!" Harry chirped when he scrambled into the living room. "I'm ready to go. I can't wait to meet my new friend!"

Dumbledore had his hands folded behind his back. "I'm sure you are, Harry. Sirius and Remus should be just as excited."

"I'm having trouble mustering the enthusiasm," Sirius replied dryly. "I've said it before. My cousin and I don't get along."

Remus gave him a small shove to the shoulder, and Dumbledore ignored the comment.

"Will he be nice?" asked Harry, looking up at the headmaster. "Does he like stories? Or flying? Can he do magic yet?"

"Calm, calm," the old man chuckled. "He's a smart boy. I'm sure you two will get along."

Harry beamed, buzzing with excitement. It seemed that nothing would ever spoil this good mood of his.

Dumbledore turned to face Remus and Sirius. "I understand your hesitation," he said cooly, "but I assure you there is nothing to worry about. Lucius and Narcissa are exactly the type of people you need in your lives."

"And why's that?" Sirius groaned. "I never thought you of all people would be recommending a friendship with blatant homophobes." 

Remus winced beside him, but said nothing.

"As I said, they have changed," Dumbledore replied. "There are, of course, areas in which they need to grow. I'm sure you can help with that. And they will help you, as well."

"It's only one visit," Remus pointed out. "No need to talk about it like it's some long term thing. If we don't like it, we'll back out."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and looked meaningfully at Harry.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius grumbled. "It's up to the kid. Now, how are we getting there?"

"Apparition, obviously," came the headmaster's response. "I'm sure you remember the entry gate, Sirius? You side-along Remus, and I shall take Harry." He extended a hand to the little boy, who was still watching expectantly.

"Whoa, whoa," Sirius interrupted. "He's never Apparated before! What if he gets sick?"

Dumbledore simply stared at him, as if it were a menial detail.

Remus made an uneasy sound. "I bet I have something for nausea," he muttered. "Godric knows I could use some, too."

Somehow, Sirius knew he didn't just mean the Apparition bit. His own nerves were beginning to churn in his stomach, and the last thing he wanted was to hurl at prissy Cousin Cissy's feet.

 _On second thought,_ he realized,  _that might not be so terrible._

* * *

Malfoy Manor loomed above them, feeling intimidatingly large even at the doorstep. The place looked as quiet and underused, but thankfully not as decrepit as old Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Sirius had never spent much time at the Manor. He was a Black, after all; they had enough of their own estates to frolic in. And, he was a boy, so his parents were never trying to sell him off to the sole Malfoy heir.

Narcissa, on the other hand, had always been the obvious choice for Lucius. The marriage had practically been planned before the girl could talk, and she and her sisters were often sent over to play at the Manor. Because of this, sometimes Sirius and Regulus went along, too, though the older blond boy had little interest in either of them.

Sirius didn't care. Lucius Malfoy was a piece of hippogriff snot anyway, and he didn't care then or now if he wanted to be his friend. Sirius didn't want to have to talk to a slimy, Slytherin, murdering Death Eater.

Even if he had somehow managed to evade Azkaban, Sirius doubted there was a fleck of good in the man. He must have used some corrupt way to stay out.

And Dumbledore had helped him. Was that corrupt?

He was pulled from his thoughts when Dumbledore knocked on the door. It looked like such a futile, plebeian gesture in contrast to the size of the door and the house. Surely, it was pointless.

Harry stood next to the headmaster, looking eager and on his toes. Sirius stood behind him, feeling anxious but just as ready to spring. Probably for different reasons.

A few moments later, it became apparent that knocking must have done something. The door swung open with the sweeping slowness of a lumbering giant, and for some reason, Sirius expected to see one.

But it was only Lucius Malfoy, who may have been taller than him, but was no giant. He had the integrity of a shrimp, he reminded himself. Lucius was not a giant in any respect.

But he wasn't the man that Sirius remembered. He was almost immediately taken aback by the change in the man before him. And in Narcissa, as well.

They seemed looser. And their eyes were brighter. The young boy at their feet, however, was the most radiant of all. It was clear the child had done something to them.

Somehow, Sirius doubted that it was Dumbledore's fault that such ugly people could seem to be full of such wonderful, pure... something. It felt treacherous to even admit it. 

"Cousin Sirius?" Narcissa gasped, and her eyes surprisingly lit up.

Sirius smirked, no longer feeling so uneasy. Did she not expect him? Knowing that they had been in the dark about his visit brought him more satisfaction than it should have.

"In the flesh," he replied, unsure of what else to do. "And this is Remus Lupin, and the little one is Harry." Introductions were apparently needed.

Narcissa nodded, recomposing herself. As cordial as ever, she said, "I recall hearing you would raise the boy." Then, her eyes narrowed, and she must have noticed the closeness of Remus' body to Sirius. "And Remus is helping? He hasn't a mother figure?"

Of course. Her outdated beliefs still seemed to shadow her.

"We do what we can," Remus answered, and he seemed to be blushing. Sirius was surprised how withdrawn he was being, but then again, neither of them felt very prepared for the encounter.

"Lovely." It was the first thing that Lucius had said, and his lip almost curled. Whatever hidden beauty Sirius thought he had seen in the man was beginning to flicker out. 

"Well, I'll be off. You can introduce the boys to one another?" Dumbledore inquired, making it clear he had not intended to stay or orchestrate the event.

Dumbledore didn't waste another moment, probably not wanting to be caught up in the ensuing confusion or inevitable awkwardness. Perhaps he hadn't told Narcissa and Lucius that it would be  _them_ visiting for his own good.

Regardless, Sirius thought it would be best to keep the Malfoys in the dark as long as possible, to give him the upper hand.

The Headmaster Apparated away in a blink, and the loud noise seemed to startle Harry. He jumped to hide behind Sirius' legs, peering at the boy he had been closer to moments before.

The boys were staring at each other with wide eyes. Sirius was hesitant, unsure of what to do. Remus seemed just as petrified, though he was usually better at this sort of thing.

This was foreign territory.

"Say hello, Draco," Lucius prompted, clearing his throat. 

That seemed to do. The boys began to whisper introductions, and that was that.

The playdate went from there, snowballing into an apparent friendship that Sirius was afraid to stop, but also anxious to watch unfold. He didn't interfere much with Harry's interaction, and was instead trapped by Narcissa and her husband.

They were interrogated about the nature of their relationship and other things, which Sirius didn't find very courteous. But Lucius seemed less interested than his wife, and was more apt to watching the boys out of the corner of his eye.

Something about that made Sirius think there was a softness, a candidness in the man he hadn't exactly anticipated. He clearly cared about his child, and there was a cautious warmth between him and his wife.

He didn't want to admit it, but he could already see that Lucius wasn't a monster. He was a man with a son, who had done what he could to get out of a war.

Sirius didn't see that right away, of course. It took a couple of visits to even slightly warm up to him, and he didn't exactly forsee them being friends in any possible future. But he was learning to tolerate him, and maybe even enjoy his wry wit and banter.

Remus seemed to feel the same. He took more to Narcissa, however. He was won over the minute she showed him the library, and the little boy Draco toured Harry around. Remus seemed to approve of a knowledge-loving friend both for him and his son.

They didn't visit the Malfoy's as much as Harry did, but they gradually reached a level where they were spending time regularly together. They acted as if there was a wall between them, but it was good, having a steady relationship with another couple. 

They changed a little, but not in the way Dumbledore had wanted. Sirius was beginning to lose his rigidity, though he didn't know it, and the same went for Lucius and Narcissa. It was a lovely thing, their friendship.

But it was even better for Harry. The boy grew into himself like a sapling, becoming brighter and cheerier and so excited about his new best friend. 

And that was how Sirius knew it was the right decision.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter.  
> Obviously, this is just a huge tie-in to the House Wins. I hoped you all liked it :)


	24. Epilogue: The Tapestry

Albus always had a plan.

It was what made him so successful. As long as he had a plan, there was, quite frankly, nothing he couldn't do. As long as he knew what he was doing, and knew more about a situation than everyone else, he was able to achieve any goal.

He meticulously planned and manipulated his entire life. He was able to become Head Boy, Head of the Transfiguration Department, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump--the list went on and on.

The only times he didn't have a proper plan were the times his life fell apart. And both times, he managed to pull everything back together with golden strings of magic, power, and his own brilliance.

The first time was Gellert Grindelwald.

Albus had been able to see the evil in his old friend, but he had overlooked it. He had allowed himself to become blinded by his feelings, which was his mistake. He wanted Gellert to be the one thing in his life left to flourish and blossom, and he thought he could save him from himself without the calculated control he used over everything else.

He had been wrong, of course, and in the end, he had been forced to destroy the problem he had let grow out of hand. The man he had loved had been his downfall, and he had to destroy them.

The second time was Tom Riddle.

The boy had been so like Gellert, and yet so unlike anything Albus had encountered before. He had even seen part of himself in the boy, and had hoped that he could do great things.

But once again, he was blindsided, and Tom became Voldemort and set out to destroy the world that Albus had so carefully woven together.

He promised himself he would _never_ let that happen again. He would secure threats before they grew, he would calculate plans before things spiraled out of control, and he would keep such a close grip on things that nothing could ever deviate from his scheme.

It didn't always work. It wasn't always possible to sign someone onto a contract, or prevent them from harming his creations. Take Peter Pettigrew and the Potters, for instance.

Albus had _everything_ set to plan. Sirius Black would be the secret keeper. While he was often rebellious or cantankerous, he was fiercely loyal and would never betray his friends.

Specifically, he would never betray James Potter. James had been a quintessential Gryffindor, but beyond that, Albus had never taken much interest in him. Lily, on the other hand, had always been bright, and as a duo, the two made an excellent addition to the Order of the Phoenix.

They hadn't mattered much more than the other members until the Prophecy. Until their son came along.

Then, it became clear to Albus that the Potters would be front and center to his plan. It was his duty to protect their boy, who would in turn save his world.

Harry Potter was the final thread in Albus' web, and he was the key to _everything._

Then, _everything_ had fallen apart. Once again, Albus had let Tom Riddle blindside him, and his judgment was misplaced. At the last minute, Lucius Malfoy had appeared on his doorstep and revealed that everything he knew was wrong.

James and Lily had lied to him. They had not held their promise. Sirius was not their secret keeper--Peter Pettigrew was. And that was the mistake that nearly incinerated Harry Potter's thread forever.

Albus knew he had to right the wrong, just as he had done every other time before. This problem was more external than what he was used to, however. He somehow did not have as much influence on this as he had every other time before.

He was going to stop it before it unraveled everything he had done.

It was his first duty to send Lucius away and ensure that the man would not lead Voldemort to the Potters any faster than things would already be going. He was almost certain it wouldn't be happening yet, despite Lucius' own lack of knowledge on the time frame.

He left the Potters and held faith in the protective charms he had left over them, and went to find Pettigrew before it was too late.

A shame, though, that it was too late, and he never should have left in the first place. The Potters died that night, and somehow Sirius made it to Harry before Albus could get the boy to him.

This time around, Albus promised himself he would _not_ lose control. It was clear that Harry Potter would be yet another wild card, and this time, he would control him.

He would not allow himself to facilitate the creation of another Dark Lord.

Though Sirius and Remus made his life hell, with all their loopholes and evasions, Albus managed to keep them in the line he wanted to. Harry would be kept out of sight and out of mind to the rest of the world.

For a boy like Harry, to show him power at such a young age would have been dangerous. To have the world cheering him and praising him as a savior might have built a mindset into him that the world was his.

And the world was most certainly not Harry Potter's. It wasn't even Albus', though he tried his best to make it that way. The world was its own, and no single man could conquer it.

Albus made it his duty to make sure that no one tried.

So, he kept Harry hidden and safe. He kept the press off the boy's back, and made sure he was happy enough that he would never turn bitter or vengeful. He would often give the boy presents just to have a positive association, though it didn't always work.

That was Remus and Sirius' part, he knew. Mostly Sirius'. Remus wasn't much of a problem. The young man had been broken at a very young age, and had learned not to bite the hand that fed him. He owed everything to Albus, and knew well enough to fear him.

He also knew that Remus was smart enough not to mention this. It would only fan the flame that was Sirius Black's aggressive paranoia.

So, while Albus had a good grip on one of the _parents_ (he made sure never to acknowledge that title, or else Harry might forget Lily and James and everything that he owed them--and by default, Albus--for), the other was a loose cannon. He had to find a way to stifle that fire.

It took him a while to realize it, but he already had the weapon he needed in his arsenal. He was unable to persuade Sirius to sign one of his behavioral-binding contracts, but there was someone else who had signed one who would be of use.

Lucius Malfoy.

It was a long shot, but Lucius was a diplomat above all else, and with his new Light-painted demeanor, he would appeal to Sirius in the end. His wife, Narcissa, added a nostalgic barb to the hook that would lure him in.

And then there was Draco, the bait above all else. The whole reason Sirius mattered was because of Harry, and the thing that made Sirius so stubborn was his undying desire to protect the boy. With that desire to protect was the desire to nurture the boy and make him happy, and Harry's friendship with the Malfoy boy would be the perfect fulfillment to close the deal.

Draco and Harry were a perfect match. Both sheltered children from families with deep connections to the war, there was hardly any other options for them, as counterintuitive as it might have seemed (had the Malfoys still been Dark, of course). They were both bright, both storytellers, both bubbly, hard-headed children.

Albus knew how young boys worked, and he knew the two would work well.

Now, the only conundrum (looking from the outside) was the entire _Malfoy_ bit. What good would come of mixing the Dark with the one of Dark's most aggressive oppositions? Sirius Black would not mix well with any Death Eater batch at all.

But Albus knew Lucius. The man was more adaptive than a rat, and was a social chameleon to boot. Despite his rigid demeanor and stiff beliefs, he was able to bend and melt to get into _anyone's_ head. To make this even better, Albus had him signed to a contract that prevented him from bending anyone in a way that wasn't beneficial to Albus' cause.

In the end, Lucius had become Albus' most versatile tool. He had immense inside knowledge of the Death Eaters that even Severus could not provide (in part because of the suspicion that the group held towards the latter man), and he had the influence and the affluence that even if he _hadn't_ switched to Albus' side publicly, there would have been no way to stop him from getting what he wanted.

Now, tied to the leash that was Albus' contract, he had become a very important thread in the web. He reached into the Ministry, even onto the Hogwarts Board of Trustees, and now would even slither into the part of the world that belonged to Harry Potter. Albus had a powerful pawn he barely had to control, and yet could use him to do whatever he needed!

Lucius, by nature, would always strive to increase his own wealth, power, and status. Lucius with the contract would still aspire to (and inevitably achieve) those things, but would be limited to using the Light to get there. And no matter how high he got, he would still always be under Albus' thumb, and would have to do as told.

And by threading Lucius into Harry Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, he would gain personal information and power over the most essential and most dangerous part of his web.

Albus had long since realized he wouldn't be welcome there. But he could place someone else there, and he would benefit from that.

The only thing he had to worry about was whether or not Lucius would _want_ anything to do with Harry and his "family." It didn't end up being a problem, however; Lucius had acted just as Albus expected, pouncing on the chance to improve his son's social standing, and to associate himself with the most important child of the generation.

He didn't know if Lucius knew exactly _how_ important Harry Potter truly was, or if he even knew that Harry remained important even after "defeating" Voldemort. He didn't worry about it, however.

The only way Lucius would prove to be a problem for him would be if he somehow found a loophole in the contract, if he somehow managed to wriggle back into his independence, into Dark.

Anything that Albus couldn't control was Dark. Anyone that came into immense power would be Dark. Albus had come to understand that. He was the world's only beacon of Light, the only one left to saw order. That was how he justified to himself the sheer amount of political power he allowed himself to hold, the amount of magic he had amassed, and meticulous contracts he used to puppeteer dozens upon dozens of his followers.

If Lucius somehow proved powerful enough to start breaking the contract, to begin working for his own benefit without aiding Albus, he knew he would have to destroy him and fix the mess he had created.

But Lucius wouldn't do that. He wasn't made of that kind of material. And if he was, Albus would end him before it became a problem. He would not allow himself to make the same mistakes again and again.

In the meantime, he would watch. And he would watch Harry Potter closely, and make sure he never became like Gellert or Tom.

It was risky, dipping the boy into the Malfoys' Slytherin environment, but he would be under close observation. Everything was calculated. As long as the boy didn't lose devotion towards his family (James or Lily or Sirius or Remus or _whatever,_ he just had to see the connection to Albus' protective sphere of influence) and the power of the Light protecting him, he wouldn't be too much of a threat.

Tom and Gellert had both been distant from their families, and they had not seen any loving power taking care of them. Albus would not let that happen to Harry.

And he would keep Harry in the dark, so he wouldn't see the plan. If he was anything like the other two, he would string together what he saw and use it for his own good.

Albus sincerely hoped he wouldn't. He hoped there was some of Lily in the boy, and that he would see the world beyond himself. He supposed that was one good thing that came from being raised like a nomad by Sirius Black.

He could not control Harry, but he could control most of the people around Harry. And as long as he could do that, the Boy Who Lived would be strung along to fulfill his sad but glorious destiny.

So long as everything held together, the boy would not become the next Dark Lord, but the next Savior. He would become the martyr leading into an enlightened age for all wizards, where the divide between Light and Dark would become clear as day, and the Dark would be exterminated before it could even begin to spore.

Harry Potter was the final, essential string to the tapestry, and once that tapestry was complete, Albus was willing to die. Albus _would_ die to complete his tapestry, and he would leave it behind. It would be beautiful and profound and would influence the wizarding world for millennia to come.

Albus had seen his world crumble twice in his lifetime. He saw the signs. He was sure that chaos was on the brink, and he was the one to prevent it from overpowering everything that he knew.

He was willing to be a martyr for the cause, but he couldn't trust anyone else to feel the same. He would keep his plans to himself, and let the others unknowingly carry it out.

People would die. Things would unravel. He would not be able to _control_ everything, but he knew that it was his only chance.

Harry Potter was his only chance.

This time around, Albus would not be there afterwards to fix the mistakes he made. That was why there would _be_ no mistakes.

There couldn't be mistakes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :) let me know what you think!!
> 
> This story was so much fun to write, though I apologize if it dragged in some places....
> 
> As always, stay tuned for more, as there are other stories that I'm working on!! <3


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